


Suadade

by thenewbrokenscene



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Horror, Bad Boy Michael, Bottom Luke, Friends to Lovers, Haunted Houses, Innocent Luke, M/M, Top Michael Clifford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewbrokenscene/pseuds/thenewbrokenscene
Summary: [Horror AU]The feeling of longing for something or someone that you love and which is lost.





	1. The Best Is Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know you like  
> when I admit that I was wrong and you were right.

“Sorry,” said the first girl Luke kissed, jumping away.  

He was fourteen and had finally gotten the courage to confess to the cutest girl in the ninth grade at the homecoming dance.  She’d asked him to come along with her group of friends, and she didn’t have a date, so Luke thought—

“I don’t want to get between you and Michael,” she said reluctantly, fiddling with a long curly piece of brown hair.

Luke blinked.

”I—I don’t—“ he tried, sputtering for a response, “ _We’re_ not—“

”I didn’t think he’d be here— he kinda scares me, y’know?  I’m not gonna mess with that.” She leaned in, giving Luke a peck on the cheek, “I think you’re super sweet, but I don’t want your boyfriend to kill me.”

The girl retreated to her girlfriends, who stared at Luke in awe for a while before giggling amongst themselves.

 _Michael isn’t even here_ , Luke thought, just before feeling the other boy’s presence.   _Fuck’s sake._  He whipped around and saw his best friend leaning against some bleachers, sipping from a clear plastic cup of red Kool-aid.  He was wearing a band shirt under a dark blazer, paired with a studded belt, which was hardly formal homecoming attire.

Michael apparently perceived Luke’s gaze and his head snapped up.  He grinned at Luke, waving at him enthusiastically, but his smile faltered when Luke continued to glare.  The younger boy stomped over to the bleachers, teeth grit.

”The date didn’t go so well?” Michael asked sympathetically.

”Only because she thinks we’re gay!” Luke complained, “What are you _doing_ here?”

”Someone had to spike the punch — so you might want to stay away, you little goody two-shoes,” Michael teased.  Luke didn’t smile. “Jeez, do you want me to go home?  I didn’t mean to ruin anything for you, honest.  I just came to people-watch, and Calum didn’t want to join me.”

Luke grumbled, staring at his shoes.

”No, it’s not your fault.  I’m glad you’re here now, actually, otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do after being rejected,” Luke said finally, sighing, “She’s probably just too nice to tell me I wasn’t cool enough for her friends.”

”Hey,” Michael said seriously.  He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder, “You’re cool enough.  I don’t hang out with losers.”

”You don’t really hang out with anyone,” Luke said.

Michael smiled genuinely, with all his teeth, eyes squinting.

”See?  I’m _so_ selective that you and Calum are the only ones in a hundred-mile radius cool enough to get to talk to me!”

Luke’s features softened.

”Wanna get out of here and go raise Hell at Walmart?” Michael offered.  Michael was _cool_ because he was fifteen and had his learner’s permit, which allowed him to do _fun_ stuff, like go to Taco Bell and hang out at cemeteries and visit freezing fucking Lake Michigan in the middle of the night, and — well, small Illinois towns don’t have much else.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, slapping Michael on the back, “I love you, dude.”

* * *

 

The professor instructed the class to have a great weekend, and Luke, now twenty years old and not much more socially adept than he’d been six years ago, bolted out of biology, like he always did.  He threw his ratty backpack over his shoulder, and jogged out to the parking lot to wait by Michael’s car, like he always did.  

He shivered, watching his hot puffs of breath pass between his lips as tiny clouds.  He supposed he could’ve taken his time to avoid standing out in the cold, since Michael’s last class on Thursdays ended fifteen minutes after Luke’s did, but sometimes Michael got out early, so Luke didn’t want to chance it and make the older boy wait.  He crunched some dead leaves under his boots to distract himself from how fucking cold it was, and pulled his beanie further down his head to cover his ears.

”Hey,” Michael called finally, pulling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door for the blonde.

”Hey,” Luke replied, before gratefully climbing into the car.  The car was freezing too, but at least it wasn’t windy in there.

Luke’s teeth chattered as he waited for the car to warm up, pressing his fingers against the heating vents.

”Pussy,” Michael joked, “It’s not even thirty degrees out.” He jabbed his thumb towards the backseat, “There’s another jacket back there if you wanna layer up.”

Luke craned his neck and glanced at the pile of hoodies and jackets Michael kept stockpiled in his car — _in case he needed to change into a cooler outfit_ , he’d explained.

”Nah,” Luke replied, pulling off his hat and fixing his flattened hair, “I’ll just make coffee or something when we get to your house.”

The older boy shook his head, his black hair bouncing against his scarf.

”Nuh-uh, we’re not going to my house.”

”Huh?”

”I have something to show you.”

Luke sighed, wiggling his toes within the confines of his thick socks and Doc Marten boots.  He sunk lower in his seat.

”Where?” he asked hesitantly.

”The woods.  I was exploring last weekend and I found this abandoned house—“

”You want to go today?” Luke groaned, instantly becoming twenty degrees colder at the mere thought of exploring in the fucking woods when _snow_ was in next week’s forecast.

”Yes,” Michael said, “It’s like forty degrees out, and it’s only going to get colder, and I don’t want to wait all the way until Spring, because I don’t want the bears to destroy it when they’re looking for a winter cave.”

”Oh shut the fuck up, there are no fucking _bears_ —“

”Are you coming or not? I can just drop you off at your apartment if you don’t wanna come with.”

Luke opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted.

”I mean, I _guess_ I can just go _all alone_ and get killed by a filthy axe murdering hobo, no big deal,” Michael sighed dramatically.

The younger boy pouted, staring at the dashboard while Michael went on his half-joking guilt trip, until Luke finally waved his hands exasperatedly and gave in.  Like he always did.

”Fine!  But if I get frostbite, you’re donating your hands to me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i will most likely update the description/tags/rating as time goes on but i dont want to reveal too much.
> 
> ALSO
> 
> i know i havent updated Sending Postcards since august but....i promise its not abandoned! ive been adding to it consistently since then, and i was almost done with the chapter but then i got stuck and now i dont like the chapter and im battling between posting something i dont really like and re-editing it for the 50th time. but i felt like starting on one of my other ideas would push me along so here you have it.


	2. Told You So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate to say I told you so...

Luke stared out the window as the car rolled past the city limits and onto an open, near-empty road.  

“Where is it, again?” he asked as the drive stretched on.  They were twenty minutes away from either of their homes, and Luke saw no sign of any woods. “You can’t just take me out to the sticks and abandon me like some kind of dog, you know.”

”Hush,” Michael said.  He dug around in the center console and tossed the aux cord at Luke, “Here, you can choose the music.  We’ll be there in a half hour, tops.”

Luke caught the cord, fumbling with his phone before getting it properly plugged in.  He pressed ‘shuffle’ on his music app and turned it down enough so his voice could still be heard.

”How the fuck did you find this place?” he asked.  He had no idea where they were. He was sure they must have driven in this direction at some point over the past year or so they’d been at school, but it was entirely unfamiliar now.

Michael shrugged.

”I was watching some guy’s exploration videos on Youtube when you were at your parents’ house for the weekend, and then I googled the nearest creepy woods and drove out for fun.  I kinda just wandered around until it started getting dark out, and then I saw this house, but I was too freaked out to go in alone.”

”So now you’re making me go in, and it’s already getting dark out,” Luke sighed.

”Yup!” Michael said gleefully.

* * *

A half hour later, as promised, Luke saw a thicket of trees up ahead, which encompassed all discernable directions.  The trees were grey, leafless, like they were dead.

”Hell nope,” the blonde said, “I hate this already!”

He peered through the window, unable to even see anything besides darkness between the trunks and branches.  A raccoon ran across the narrow road in front of them, making Luke jump.

”Turn around, Michael, I’m telling you now that I’m _not_ getting out of this car, so you better just turn around!” Luke said nervously.  

It was dark, it was cold, there were wild animals, it was a _bad idea._

”Sh, can you hear that?” Michael whispered suddenly, punching the button on the radio to turn the music off.  

Luke paused his complaints, holding his breath and straining his ears.  He didn’t hear anything.

”What is it?” he whispered back.

”Nothing,” Michael said cheerfully, turning the music back on, “I just wanted you to shut the fuck up for a minute.”

The wheels of the car crunched over gravel and dead leaves as Michael pulled over, killing the engine.  Luke blinked, looking around.  

“There’s nothing here,” he observed.  Maybe Michael had gone nuts and brought Luke out to the middle of nowhere to kill him or something?

The black haired boy rolled his eyes and pointed at the dashboard window, at a tiny, almost indistinguishable path through the woods a block or so in front of them.

Luke stared at it.  Then he stared at Michael, who was, in turn, staring at him expectantly.  He looked back at the path.

”No,” he said finally.

But Michael was already tossing two hoodies at him from the backseat, and Luke was mechanically taking off his jacket and putting them on, and putting his jacket back on over them, and putting on his beanie, and a pair of gloves that Michael had shoved at him, because Luke had zero ability to say no to the older boy and actually mean it, and they both knew it.

Michael got out of the car, but Luke remained frozen in place, his hand on the passenger side door.

”Do you want to wait alone in the car?” Michael teased, “Baby.”

Luke’s cheeks reddened and he scowled, slamming his way out of the vehicle aggressively and stomping towards the path that his friend had indicated.

It was fully dark now, because _fuck daylight savings time_ , and Luke grimaced at how quickly the cold air was killing his phone battery.

”I’ll light the way there, if you light the way back,” he suggested, linking arms with Michael so they could share one phone’s flashlight beam without tripping over anything.  

Twigs continued to snap underfoot and the younger boy was constantly flinching at the sounds of wings flapping and animals running.

”There aren’t any bears in these woods, don’t worry.  I was just joking,” Michael reassured him, slipping an arm around Luke’s waist.

”I know that,” Luke said, licking his lips, “I’m sure there are fucking coyotes or something, though.”

A stroll through the woods during the nighttime, though creepy, wasn’t the _most_ terrifying experience of Luke’s life.  He’d been camping before, so he was experienced in the heart-pounding jogs to go pee behind a tree in the middle of the night, and the heart-pounding sprint back to the safety of the tent afterwards.  

No, the most terrifying experience by far was witnessing the mere _silhouette_ of the abandoned house ahead, forlorn in a clearing.  Luke’s heart thudded in his chest and his knees buckled.  Something was terribly _wrong_ with that thing, it was emanating an _energy_ , and it was just a goddamn _house_.  Michael caught him, saw the blonde go pale and start to sweat.

”Hey, hey,” Michael said, pulling Luke up and letting the younger boy lean heavily against him.  He involuntarily continued to march forward with Michael’s encouragement, until the pair reached the wooden steps of the porch.

Luke felt nauseous just looking at the chipped red paint on the front door.  He had an indescribable feeling that the house wasn’t normally _here_.  Like, it wasn’t supposed to _exist_.

Michael stepped forward, his shoe creaking on the first stair.  Luke jerked him backwards by the sleeve of his coat, gripping his shoulders desperately.

”Don’t,” he warned, “Don’t go in.”

The older boy’s faced screwed up in confusion.  

”Huh?  It’s just a house,” he said.  He gestured to the thing vaguely.

Luke glanced up, conceding that it was a considerably standard-looking house.  Two stories, not ridiculously huge.  It wasn’t as if they’d come across a haunted castle or something.  The outer wood paneling was once white, he could tell, but now it was mostly greyish brown and rotting.  The door was a stark red, as were the panes on the—

Luke gasped suddenly, gagging on his own saliva as everything inside him begged him not to look at the windows—

“Please don’t make me go in,” he choked out, voice cracking.  He was crying and he didn’t know why but he’d never felt worse in his fucking _life_.

“Luke, you’re shaking,” Michael cooed, embracing the younger boy, “It’s okay, I promise.  The scariest thing we might find in there would be a homeless dude, alright? I just wanna see, like, their vintage magazines and shit.  Come on.”

“I can’t,” Luke whispered, “Please, I wanna go home.”

”You wanna wait out here?  I’ll only be a minute—”

” _No_!” he sobbed, burying his face in Michael’s neck.  

Michael retreated after a few moments, taking Luke’s face in his hands.  He wiped the tears away from Luke’s blue eyes with him thumbs soothingly, and spoke softly.

”Okay,” he said, “Just give me ten minutes, okay?  We’ll go in together, hold onto each other, I’ll take a few pictures, and we can get out, alright?  I know I should’ve brought Calum or Ashton or something instead, but— I feel like I won’t get another chance if I come back later.  There’s something, like, calling me to— nevermind, that’s dumb, but, I promise you’ll be okay.  I’ve got you.”

Luke looked up, still shivering.  He hiccupped.  Michael’s face was really close to his own, and he was staring at Luke’s parted lips, and Luke got the feeling they were supposed to kiss or something which was— _weird_ and made his stomach flutter, but he’d unpack whatever the hell _that_ was later.  Instead, he nodded slowly.

”Ten minutes,” he agreed, sniffling for a final time.  Michael smiled at him.  He couldn’t say no to Michael.

He patted the top of Luke’s maroon beanie and turned back towards the house, lacing his fingers with Luke’s tightly.  Luke’s heart pounded as they neared the front door, and pounded harder as Michael twisted the doorknob, and pounded even harder when the door swung open easily but with a loud groan.  Luke let out a deep breath when nothing leaped out to attack them.

They stepped inside the dark house, some of the furniture illuminated by an eerie moonlight, but all in all, much of Luke’s anxiety dissipated as he came to terms with the _facts_.  There was a sofa, like a normal house, a refrigerator in the kitchen, like a normal house, albeit some of the furniture was ripped, damp, or covered in mold.  But that was to be expected in an abandoned house in the Midwest, along with the graffitti on the living room wall and a few scattered beer cans from other bored adolescents who’d come to visit.  There were no demonic symbols or ancient artifacts or evil spirits.  

Now Luke felt a little stupid for overreacting, but Michael said nothing of it.

”Honestly, this is kinda boring,” Michael said quietly, taking pictures of the disappointingly normal bathroom and dining room, “I guess we can go now.”

They turned a corner, to where they thought they’d be brought back in a circle to the front of the house, but were instead met with a staircase to the second level.  The stairs drooped with age and water damage, and a dangerous-looking nail stuck out of one near the top.

The familiar sense of dread settled once more in Luke’s gut, but he’d overreacted once and wouldn’t be doing that again.

”But I wanna go up _there_ first,” Michael grunted, climbing the first two steps.  He stopped when Luke made no move to follow, their hands still tangled together.

”I don’t want to get tetanus,” Luke joked, gesturing towards the rusty nail, “Or fall through the floor.”

Michael looked disappointed.

”Alright, we can go,” he said dejectedly, patting Luke on the shoulder.  Luke’s eyes widened.  He didn’t want Michael to be disappointed.  

“You can go up, if you want,” Luke said, “I’ll wait down here.”

”You won’t be scared?” 

“Nah, I don’t know why I got all worked up— it’s like you said, it’s just a house.”

He couldn’t say no to Michael.  

“You’re the best.  Two minutes,” he promised.

The older boy squeezed his hand one last time and ascended the staircase, using his phone as a flashlight.  Luke watched anxiously, hoping the stairs wouldn’t collapse underneath him, but they didn’t, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Michael made it up safely and gave him a thumbs-up before disappearing into the dark hallway.

Luke kept his eyes on the staircase, wringing his hands together as he waited for a telltale scream that would force him to bolt up the stairs and fight a ghost or axe murderer.  Instead, there was silence, until he heard the shattering of glass.  He jumped in surprise.

”Michael?” he called.

”I knocked over a lamp!” Michael called back sheepishly.

”Be careful,” Luke replied.

”Sure, Mom,” Michael said sarcastically.  

There was nothing else for a while.  Until—

“What the hell?” Michael shouted.  Luke opened his mouth to ask ‘ _What?_ ’ but then there was a gasp and a loud thud and a horrible scraping sound and Luke stood there, heart in his throat, waiting for Michael to yell that he’d been bitten by a squirrel or something.  He didn’t.

”Michael?” Luke called, stomach twisting.

A little more scraping.  Luke stared at the ceiling where the noise had come from in horror.

“ _Michael??_ ”

Then, nothing.

”Michael, you piece of shit, this better not be a prank or I’m not talking to you for a week!” Luke screeched, hands balled into fists.  When he received no reply, he stomped both his feet frustratedly and started climbing the stairs.

The atmosphere of the second floor was suffocatingly dark, and made the hairs of the back of Luke’s neck rise.  He was shivering more than he had been outside.

”Mikey?” he whispered.  He did _not_ want to yell.  He didn’t think he could if he tried.

He peered into a room, where the other boy had evidently knocked over the lamp, but there was no sign of him, and no closet, no huge furniture to hide behind.

Luke crossed the hallway to find what appeared to be a storage room that instantly triggered his fight-or-flight response.

”You’re fucking kidding me,” he whined, staring at all the furniture covered in white sheets like some kind of haunted house horror movie.  There was a huge window on the east side of the room, and, like when they were outside, Luke still did not want to look directly at it, now realizing there was something distinctly human-shaped covered in a sheet just in front of it, looking out.  It was probably a mannequin or statue from the garden or something.  Still, it made Luke want to throw up.

”Michael, if you’re in here, come out, because I’m going to piss my fucking pants and it’s not funny and you’re going to feel really guilty,” he begged in a harsh whisper.

There was no response, and Luke started to back out of the room.

”Hey, Luke!” he heard Michael’s voice call out.  From downstairs.  Luke whirled around, confused.  Michael hadn’t walked past him at all while he was upstairs... There must be a second staircase or something. Or, the sound Luke had heard was Michael falling through the rotting floor. “Luke?”

Yep, definitely Michael.

The room was giving him those turning-off-the-basement-lights-and-sprinting-up-the-stairs heebie jeebies, so he did just that: sprint back down to the first level of the house.  He didn’t see a second staircase.

”Michael?” he shouted once he reached the bottom of the stairs.  No response.

He retraced his footsteps through the house until he was back at the front door, calling Michael’s name over and over again.

”Hey, Luke!” he heard finally.  He froze.  “Luke?”

It was exactly the same tone, inflection, and timing, as the first time Michael had called him.  But this time, it was coming from upstairs.  Luke definitely did not see Michael going up the single staircase in the house.  Nonetheless, he reluctantly shuffled back through the house and stopped in front of the steps, staring up into the dark hallway.

 _Don’t_ , his instincts screamed at him, _You’re in a fucking horror movie, don’t go up the fucking stairs._

”Hey, Luke!” the voice came again, from the upstairs hallway.  Luke waited a few seconds. “Luke?”

The blonde held his breath as he squinted into the darkness.  If he was a kid without a nightlight, he’d almost imagine there was... a face...

There was a face in the hallway, he realized with a start.  It was not Michael’s face.  Luke choked up with fear, unable to move.  He couldn’t even describe how it _was_ a face, it had no nose or mouth where they should be, just wide, pale eyes.  For a moment, he wanted to believe it was still a prank, and Michael had found some creepy mask up in that room, but then it blinked, and Luke screamed at the top of his lungs and adrenaline coursed through his body and forced him to _move_ because Michael was not fucking _up there, or anywhere else in this house._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	3. 137

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold my hand, let's turn to ash  
> I'll see you on the other side

Luke tore through the house desperately, tripping over the left behind beer bottles and papers scattered around the slippery hardwood floors, knocking over the kitchen stools barring him from exit.  He skidded to a halt when he reached the front door, finding it closed when he was sure he’d left it ajar on their way in.

Taking no time to pause or look behind him, the blonde yanked on the door handle and, of course, it was fucking stuck.  Luke screamed through his teeth and threw himself at the door, trying to dislodge it with his broad shoulders to no avail.  Chest heaving, he glanced around quickly for another exit, a window, anything, but a blinding flash of light burst through the room before he could assess how realistic it’d be to crash his way out of the large living room window.

With the light came a deafening sound and the smaller window nearest to the front door burst, sending glass flying everywhere.  Luke ducked as fast as he could, but a shard succeeded in slicing across his forehead over his left eye.  He shouted in surprise and pain, his ears ringing.  He suddenly couldn’t even remember where he was, what he was doing, or why he was trying to leave what he imagined was... home?  Another flash of light startled him out of what he could only describe as the house attempting to keep him.  His thoughts and memories came rushing back to him in a panic and he kicked blindly at the door until it unjammed from the frame and flew open, and Luke flew with it.

He tumbled down the porch stairs, feeling his foot twist the wrong way in one of the gaps between the old creaky wood.  Nevertheless, he sprinted away from the house in no particular direction, which was foolish considering the road was only in _one_ particular direction, but he was acting purely on instinct at that point.

Luke was gasping for air by the time his body decided the danger was far enough away, and he fell to his knees, gripping a nearby tree trunk for support as he coughed his lungs out.  He dry-heaved, vomited on the dead grass, and stumbled off to find a different tree to sit by.

He curled into a ball, sobbing into his knees from overexertion and his body’s sheer need for oxygen.  Finally, he pulled his phone out of his pocket with violently shaking hands, and sobbed loudly when the battery read 3%, the cold air having sucked most of its battery life out.

 _I should call 911 before it dies_ , he thought.  He dialled the 9, and stopped.   _And tell them what?  Tell them I have no idea where I am?  What use would that be?  I’d freeze or starve to death before they even figured out which forest I was in._  He put his phone down, sniffling loudly and trying not to think about where Michael might be.  Maybe he’d done the same thing, jumped out a window or something and made it into the woods.  He hadn’t been using his phone all night, his battery was probably alive, and he knew the area at least a little better than Luke did.  He had to be fine.  

It was dark, and in his panic, Luke had forgotten how terrifying _that_ was, all on its own.  Michael said there were no bears, but—

Using his phone’s flashlight, Luke quickly took in his surroundings, and found minimal satisfaction that he, at least, was no longer being chased, nor were there any wild animals watching him.

He had to keep moving.  Luke opened the map app on his phone and pinched the screen with his fingers.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the road, and made sure to turn himself in the correct direction.

 _Just have to walk in a straight line until I get to the road,_ he thought, _it can’t be more than a mile away._

Luke had been walking for just ten minutes when the flashlight suddenly went dark.  He violently poked the home button on his phone, but it only showed the dead battery symbol.  He took his mind off his dismal situation by focusing on _not_ tripping over anything with his one usable eye and rapidly swelling ankle.  He tried to wipe the blood away from his face but the cold air had helped to dry it, and he succeeded only in making his gloves sticky and his left eye was still sealed shut.

Finally, he could see a break in the trees ahead, and knew that was where the road must be.  Relieved, Luke leaned against a tree for a much-needed 5-minute rest.  He heard movement to his right, and inwardly shushed his accelerating heartbeat, because it was just a squirrel or something.  

 _Don’t look,_ his body told him, _it’s nothing_.  Luke grit his teeth as the sound of crunching leaves continued, and knew that whatever _it_ was, was too heavy to be a squirrel, and probably wasn’t a person, either, since it hadn’t announced its presence.  After imagining that face from inside the house, Luke made up his mind to _not_ look and immediately broke into a run towards the road, grimacing on the first step he took with his _(just sprained, hopefully?)_ ankle, able to feel the pain now that his adrenaline had mostly run out.

His boots skidded onto the concrete at the same time that a car’s headlights zoomed past him, blinding him momentarily.  The flash was much too much like the soul-sucking light in that house, and Luke fell backwards onto his ass in the middle of the road.

Tires squealed as the driver slammed on the brakes.  Luke didn’t really pay attention to the couple arguing in the car about whether or not they should open their doors to the strange guy who they’d almost killed, burying his face in his knees.

The car door clicked open and Luke scrambled away from the footsteps until he heard a blessedly _human_ voice go, “What the hell are you doing in the road?”

”Hey, shut up!” the man’s girlfriend said, smacking him on the arm, “Are you okay?  We didn’t hit you, right?”

Luke stared up at the couple, thankful for their convenient arrival but unsure of how to explain his situation without sounding like a lunatic.

”I don’t know where I am,” he said simply.

”What?  How did you get here?” the guy said, offering a hand to help Luke to his feet.  

Luke stood, yelping when he pressed too deeply on his injured foot.  He limped over to the hood of the car, leaning against it heavily.

”No, I’ve seen this before honey, the college kids come out to the woods to do acid and then they get lost,” the woman explained.  

“I’m not tripping,” Luke insisted, “I, I, I came out here with a friend and we— got separated.”

He blinked tears out of his eyes, trying to stay calm because _hysterical Luke_ was not useful for finding Michael.

”Um, I— can you please just call the police,” he said shakily, instead of trying to rehash the story.

They let him sit in their warm car until the police arrived, and the woman even had a pack of wet wipes in her purse that allowed Luke to clean some of the blood off his face, though the man had suggested that he’d probably need stitches for the cut anyway.

Then, he got to sit in the warm cop car while the female officer scolded him for agreeing to trespassing in the abandoned house in the first place.

”I know, I know, _IknowIknowIknow_ ,” Luke sobbed frustratedly, “I’ll take the fucking ticket, please just find Michael!”

”When did you get separated?” the officer asked more gently as Luke scrubbed as his tear-streaked cheeks with his jacket sleeve.

”He went upstairs to explore, but I was afraid of the floor collapsing, so I stayed downstairs, and then after I heard a loud noise, I went up to make sure he was alright but I couldn’t find him.”

”Do you think he might have fallen through the floor?” she asked, scribbling notes on a pad of paper.

”I thought— maybe, but I didn’t see any holes...”

”It was dark,” the officer said, “If he fell and hit his head, he wouldn’t have been able to answer you.”

Luke opened his mouth to tell her that he’d _heard_ Michael calling for him from downstairs... and then again from upstairs... and decided that would make him sound insane, so he dropped it.

”There was someth— some _one_ else in the house,” he said, “I saw it, _them_ , when— I didn’t find Michael upstairs, so I went downstairs, didn’t see him, so I decided to double-check on the second floor, but when I was about to go up the staircase, I saw a... person, that wasn’t Michael.  So...” Luke trailed off.

”Okay,” the woman said seriously, “We have officers on the way to the house.  Did you get a good look at the other person?”

”Just the eyes,” Luke said carefully.  It wasn’t a total lie, “They were, um, a weird...light...color.  Yellowish maybe.”

The second officer tapped on the outside of the car window, and the one Luke had been speaking to rolled it down.  He murmured something in her ear, and went back to his phone call.

”They found your friend’s car,” she told Luke, “They’re pulling up to the house now.”

“They shouldn’t go in there,” Luke said, chewing anxiously on a hangnail.

”They’ll be okay, sweetie, they have guns,” she said.  She didn’t mean to sound condescending, but she did. “You and your friend probably walked in on a homeless person’s shelter and scared him just as much as he scared you.  And we don’t want to wait until morning in case Michael's hurt.  We'll take you to the ER so you can get an x-ray and some stitches."

Luke didn't know how to argue with that, so he didn't.

* * *

Hobbling out to the emergency room waiting area on his new crutches and his new stitched-up forehead, Luke found the police officers still waiting for him, looking troubled.

"Did they find anything?" he asked.  With the melancholy expressions on their faces, he almost hoped they hadn't.  

The female officer mustered up a smile, but it wasn't genuine.

"We'll drive you home."

* * *

"I need to call Michael's parents," Luke said numbly as the officers dropped him off at Calum's house.  He hadn't yet explained anything to the older boy, but Calum could tell Luke was shaken during their phonecall and assured him that he could stay over for as long as he needed.  The car ride, aside from Luke's phonecall to Calum and his subsequent quiet crying, was silent.

"We'll take care of that," said the male officer, handing Luke his crutches as the blonde swung his legs out of the backseat of the police car, "You just get some rest, and we'll keep in touch if we need anything else."

* * *

Luke gave Calum and Ashton the police-edited version of the story, not wanting his friends to think he was making shit up out of some type of traumatic mental breakdown.

"He's just...gone?  They didn't find anything?" Calum asked, mouth agape.  

The three boys were cocooned in blankets with a big mug of hot cocoa each, with Luke sandwiched between Ashton and Calum as they sat on the sofa.

"They found _something_ ," Luke amended.  His eyes burned from crying, and he was sure he'd be dehydrated by the end of this shitty ass night. "But they told me not to worry about it, and wouldn't say what it was.  But they're searching the woods now, so that...might be a good sign.  Or maybe it's not.  If there was good news, they probably would've told me, right?"

"I don't think you should dwell on it,” Calum said, “Overthinking it isn’t going to change anything.”

”I just need him to be okay,” Luke whispered, “It’s my fault, I should’ve convinced him to come hang out at my house or something.”

”You said yourself that he was gonna go with or without you.  No one would’ve known he was missing until at least tomorrow morningif you hadn’t gone,” Ashton said.

”What about his phone?  No ‘find my iPhone’ thing?” Calum asked.

”The first thing the police had me do when my phone charged a little was try calling him, and it went straight to voicemail.  So he either turned it off, or it died.  They’ll get an alert if it gets turned on, but it needs to be on for them to be able to use the GPS...” Luke said sullenly.

”They’ll find him, Luke,” Ashton said, putting a comforting arm around the younger boy, “If he’s not in the house, and he doesn’t have his car, he’s gotta be within, like, a 5-mile radius of that house.  They’ll probably send out a helicopter tomorrow morning and find him right away.”

”If he doesn’t freeze to death,” Calum said.  

Luke moaned unhappily, burying his face in Ashton’s neck.  The brunette glared at Calum.

”Sorry, I’m sure he’s dressed warmly enough, considering you’re wearing like six sweaters.”

 

* * *

 

Luke barely slept that night, checking his phone notifications every fifteen minutes to make sure Michael hadn’t texted him, or called for help, or that the police didn’t leave a voicemail.  Calum woke up a few times from Luke’s shifting, as they shared the older boy’s bed.  

 _i miss you_ , he sent to Michael’s iMessage.

“Sorry,” Luke apologized as Calum squinted against the light from Luke’s phone.

”’S okay,” Calum mumbled sleepily.  He rubbed Luke’s back, “Try to get some sleep, we can call the police station in the morning.”

Calum had offered for Luke to cuddle in bed, which Luke was grateful for in his anxious state, but the lack of Michael in the bed only served to remind him that his best friend was missing and possibly fucking dead while he was having a nice warm cuddle with someone else, and the police were out searching for a homeless man when they should be searching for some horrifying friend-snatching supernatural being, and Luke had no way of convincing anyone of that fact.

He called the police station early the next morning, as soon as he felt like Calum wouldn’t kill him for waking him up yet again, and was told there had been no new developments, but, as Ashton had predicted, they’d be searching a radius around the house, which should be more productive during the daylight hours than it had been the previous night.

The man on the phone then said that a sample from the blood found in the house had been sent in for lab testing, which could take a while.

“Blood?” Luke whispered.  

The man stuttered an assurance that they had only found a few drops on the second floor, which Luke didn’t entirely believe, but he decided he’d rather not know, so he hung up.

Ashton made breakfast in an attempt to lighten the mood, but all three were too sick with worry to take more than a few bites.

”Should we try and go look for him?” Calum asked from within their cuddle pile.

The boys were lumped on top of one another on the couch.  The TV was off, Ashton had called in sick to work, and they hadn’t really spoken, just stared in anticipation each time Luke pulled out his phone to check for notifications.  There never were any.

”The place has to be crawling with police, they’re not gonna let us help,” Ashton said glumly, “We’d drive all the way there and get turned away.”

”Might be better than just sitting here and stewing in it,” Calum said.

”I’m sure they’ll have something by the end of the night,” Ashton said, though he didn’t sound totally convinced.

* * *

 

They didn’t have anything by the end of the night.  Nor the next night.  Luke’s heart stopped when his phone finally rang, but the call came from Michael’s parents, who wanted to hear the story from Luke himself.  Luke could tell they were trying very hard not to sound accusatory, considering Michael’s parents were good friends with Luke’s parents due to the boys’ close friendship, and everyone tended to agree that Luke was a good influence on Michael.  Like everyone else, he said nothing to indicate a monster had taken their son.

* * *

 

”I have to go home,” Luke sighed, late Sunday night.  He had class the next morning, though he was strongly debating on whether or not he would actually attend.  But Luke always went to class, because he was a do-gooder.

“Are you sure?” Calum asked, concerned, “You can stay over as long as you want.  Hell, just move in, if you want.”

”Yeah,” the blonde muttered, “I don’t have any of my shit here for school and I haven’t worn my own clothes since Thursday, so I gotta go home for at least one night.  Maybe I’ll come back on Tuesday or something.”

”I’ll drive you, you probably don’t want to walk home in those crutches,” Ashton offered, pulling himself out of the comfy armchair to grab his car keys.

* * *

 

“So, what aren’t you telling us?” Ashton asked suddenly, just as Luke started to unbuckle his seatbelt.  The older boy’s car was parked in the lot of Luke’s apartment, but the engine was still running.

”Huh?” Luke asked.

”Every time you talk about what happened at the house, it sounds like you’re holding something back.  I was just wondering—”

”I didn’t _do_ anything to Michael,” Luke said defensively, “I already feel guilty enough that he’s gone.”

”Okay, definitely wasn’t saying that,” Ashton scoffed, holding up his hands in surrender, “I just mean— did you have a fight or something?  You don’t want to say the full story, and you keep texting his phone with apologies... Whatever it is, it might be nice to get off your chest.  I’m not gonna judge you if the last thing you said to him was something shitty.”

Luke bit his lip, fiddling with the seatbelt buckle.

”It’s nothing like that,” he said hesitantly.

”Did you guys... _do_ something...like, y’know...?”

” _No_!” Luke scowled, blushing, “No, it’s just— I heard and saw things that couldn’t have actually happened, so I’m trying to make sure I don’t sound insane when I’m trying to get people to help me find him.”

”I don’t get it.”

Luke sighed.

“I saw— nevermind.  It was a really stressful situation, so I’ve been trying to separate what I _think_ I saw from what I actually, literally, realistically, in reality, _saw_.”

Ashton stared at him.

”And I don’t want to talk about it because I already feel crazy just thinking about it.”

”Okay,” Ashton said, “If you do want to talk, I’m here.  Whatever crazy shit you have to say, I’ll listen.”

”Thank you.  Can you help me with my crutches?”

* * *

 

_Bzz.  Bzz.  Bzz.  Bzz._

Luke almost didn’t open his eyes, assuming the buzzing was another phantom vibration caused by paranoia and useless hopefulness.

But he saw the bright glow of his phone screen on the mattress next to him when he opened his eyes, and he shot up, staring at the caller ID.

” _poop head_ ,” it said, followed by three sun emojis.   _Michael_.

Luke’s hands shook as he answered as quickly as possible.

”Michael?” he choked out.

There was no reply.  He waited, holding his breath.

”Hello?  Please answer me,” he asked again, voice breaking.

He didn’t hear anything.  But it wasn’t _nothing_ , in the sense that it was an automated call, or a butt dial, or anything like that.  There was no breathing, or clicking, or jostling around in someone’s back pocket.  It was as if the phone was sitting on the floor in an empty room.

Luke felt inexplicable terror and didn’t dare say anything else, his instincts telling him not to draw attention to himself.  Which was entirely illogical, being that it was a _phone call_.  But the hairs on the back of his neck were raised just the same.  He couldn’t hang up on Michael, though.  He gripped the sheets on his bed tightly, attempting to channel his anxiety to just that one hand.  When the blonde finally reopened his mouth, brave enough to speak once more, the choice was made for him, and he heard the phone shifting around for a split second before it hung up on him.  He didn’t want to call back.  

Instead, he speedily punched in the police station’s number, which he memorized after the sixth time he called for nonexistent updates.

”Did you get that?!” Luke screeched as soon as the desk clerk answered the phone.

”Excuse me?” he said tiredly.  It was five in the morning, after all.

”Michael just— Michael, the one who went missing, just called my phone, and I need to know if you could trace it or not!”

The man on the other end perked up at that.

”Let me check on that, and I’ll call you back.”

Luke waited with bated breath until the station called him over thirty minutes later.  This time, it was the female officer who’d driven Luke to the hospital that night.

”You said you called him, and he answered?” she asked.

”No,” Luke replied, “He called _me_.  I answered, and no one said anything on the other line, but then he hung up.”

He heard her mumble something to another officer.

”Well,” she said, confused, “This is a real head-scratcher, because his phone has been off since Thursday.  We just talked to the city police, and they insist that he couldn’t have called you.”

”No,” Luke repeated insistently, “He _did_.”

“Hon, it’s late, you’ve been thinking about this all weekend, you probably haven’t slept much, have you considered—“

”He _called me_ ,” Luke interrupted, desperate.

She sighed, unconvinced.

”Alright, we’ll keep looking.  It might be helpful if you can bring your phone to the station tomorrow.”

”Yes, okay,” Luke agreed, nodding even though she obviously couldn’t see him.

”Get some sleep,” she advised.

 _please come back_ , he texted the older boy, flopping back down on his pillows miserably.

* * *

 

Predictably, Luke couldn’t possibly fall back asleep after the phone call until he involuntarily passed out at around eight in the morning.  Which was around the time he should’ve been getting up for class, so _that_ wasn’t happening.

The doctor had told him he should be on crutches for two weeks, but after popping a few aspirin, Luke decided three days was enough, and left his crutches laying across the couch as he limped to his car. He pulled the door open and plopped himself in, turning it on.  He’d told the officer that he’d be at the station sometime around four.  He really didn’t want to go anywhere near that whole fucking town again, even to the police station, but— Michael had _called_ him, and they weren’t going to believe it until he showed them his call history in person.

He drove, guided by Google Maps instead of being driven by his best friend, feeling emptier and emptier with each passing mile.  He tried not to think about it, but after a good amount of driving, good old Google Maps had taken him directly down the shitty fucking narrow road he’d lost everything on.  

Luke’s breath caught in his throat, seeing the disturbed pile of leaves and grass where Michael had parked that night, though his car had been towed away days ago.  

 _Don’t_ , his body was telling him, before he even knew he’d made a decision.  He pulled off to the side of the road, a few yards ahead of where Michael had parked, and stared directly down the awful path towards the awful house.  There was police tape at the path entrance, but no police cars, no officers.  There were answers in there, more than he’d get from the police, and no one to stop him from finding them.  

 _What the fuck are you doing_ , he asked himself, just before turning off the engine and forcing himself out of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading/commenting/etc!!


	4. Could Never Be Heaven Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you know the words that make the hidden door open?  
> Can you speak my secret name and fix me?  
> I have no heart, I have no brain  
> Lord I have no courage  
> Can you get me home again?

Luke went around the police tape and trudged up the path towards the abandoned house.  There was a light dusting of snow on the dead leaves, but they were still crisp under his feet.  If Michael was out in the woods without shelter, by now he’d be... in trouble, to say the least.  The blonde turned his thoughts elsewhere.

He focused on his visible breath, not really wanting to look up at the house.  He’d have to eventually, of course, but he could cherish these last few yards of peace.

It was dark, like last time, but the looming structure wasn’t quite as intimidating when Luke finally dared to look up at it.  It’s not like it could take anything else away from him now.

The front door was slapped with more police tape.  The shattered windows, however, were in perfect condition.  Luke supposed they could have been replaced to avoid trespassing, but... certainly it would have been easier to just...board them up?

 _Don’t go in,_ his conscience advised. 

 _But, then, why did you come here?_ asked the devil on his shoulder.

He climbed the front porch stairs like his feet were made of lead, taking note of the gap where he’d fallen before in case he needed to make yet another hasty exit.  He jiggled the door handle, finding it loose, and maneuvered through the opening in the crossed police tape.

The dark house felt very, very empty.  There was none of the sickening energy Luke had felt before, like whatever it was that was _here_ , had moved on.  Luke didn’t know what he’d expected.  To feel Michael’s presence maybe?  Hear him calling to him?  But this wasn’t Stranger Things, after all.

Luke continued through the house, picking up random objects, a toaster, a magazine, an old jacket, but found nothing he was looking for — it was silly, but he felt like maybe he’d find, like, an occult book, or a pentagram carved into a wall.  Nothing.  He paused at the foot of the stairs to the second floor, peering up into the darkness.  A chill ran up his spine, the image of that face clear as day in his mind’s eye.  But he didn’t see it now, and Michael needed him, and Luke had to swallow his fear and move forward.

Nothing jumped out at him once he reached the top, nor in the room where Michael had shattered the lamp, for which Luke was both relieved and disappointed.  The thought that maybe a regular old homeless guy had kidnapped and murdered his best friend was almost worse than the idea of him being abducted by aliens or being stuck in a parallel universe.  One idea was hard, concrete, unchangeable, while the other was fantastical and provided an opportunity for a happy ending.

Luke glanced around the sheet-covered room that had scared him so badly a few days ago.  The person-shaped thing was no longer at the window, which was— not something Luke wanted to think about, because that meant whatever it was had moved, or never existed.  That aside, there was nothing of interest in that room either.

He followed the hallway into another room, and froze.  There were yellow numbered police markers on the floor, and — the police officer had lied when he said they’d only found a few drops of blood.  With his phone flashlight, he could see the big, dark stain on the ratty once-white rug, spilling over onto the hardwood floor.  There were scratches on the floor, which Luke guessed caused the scraping noise he’d heard.  Tears instantly rose in Luke’s eyes.  He hadn’t checked this room before, “Michael” had called to him from downstairs before he’d had a chance — what if Michael, _real Michael_ , had been in here, hurt, and Luke didn’t even fucking _check_?

Something occurred to him, then.  The phone call.  He was sure the police would’ve searched the house for Michael’s phone, but it couldn’t hurt to try.  The house was empty, anyway, and Michael was gone.  He’d try anything.

Luke scrolled through his contacts until he found the older boy’s number, and called it.  He waited until he heard it start ringing.  It _was_ ringing, he thought, furrowing his brows in confusion.  It didn’t go straight to voicemail, so—

 _No way_.  Luke heard a faint buzzing, felt it vibrating through the floor.  He strained his ears to listen, and perceived that the source was in another room.  He stepped carefully, ringing the phone over and over again, until it led him back to the storage room.   _Great_ , he thought, anxiety rising in his chest.  He was beginning to hate that room again.

The buzzing was louder as he approached a large sheet-covered object.  Michael’s phone must have slid under a chair or something, he guessed.  He reached out to pull the sheet off the furniture, but something gave him pause just as his fingertips brushed the fabric.  It was almost imperceptible, but he was sure he’d just seen the sheet move, like a breeze or a breath had moved it.  He swiveled his head jerkily towards the window, to check if it was open, somehow.  Luke saw his reflection in the glass, and he saw th—

 _No no no no no no no no no_ , was all he could think, snatching his hand back from the sheet and scrambling backwards, tripping, yanking himself back up to his feet painfully and limp-running as best he could towards the stairs in a panic, frightened tears bubbling out of his eyes.  He managed to hobble quickly down the stairs, and dared a look behind him when he ran into something solid.

” _Don’t_!” he shrieked, bouncing off and landing on the floor as the thing reached for the fabric of his shirt.  It grabbed him, shouting, and after a few moments of Luke’s frantic thrashing and screeching, slammed him against a wall.  He saw stars and dropped, sagging down to the floor, and when he opened his eyes again, a police officer was shining a bright flashlight in his face, his partner standing a few feet behind him.  

”What do you think you’re doing?!” the officer yelled.

”I saw, I saw, I saw, I—“ Luke babbled, “I, I have to get out of here, I—“

”You’re not going anywhere, you are _trespassing_ on a _crime scene!_ ”

“Uh, _shit_ ,” Luke managed to squeeze out as a pseudo-apology amidst his panic.

”What were you thinking?!” the other officer asked.  Luke noticed that it was the woman he’d had most of his previous interactions with. 

Luke sobbed in response.  Michael was almost definitely dead, he’d just seen a— a _thing_ , and now he was going to _jail_.

”You didn’t show up at the station when you said you were going to, and I had a feeling you were going to take a detour.  Sure enough, your car was parked right outside!” she scolded, then reiterated, “This is a _crime scene.”_

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—“ Luke cut himself off, perking up suddenly.  He had been useful, at least, “I— I found his phone.”

”Where?” she asked suspiciously.

”Upstairs.  I called it, and it rang, and its in the room with all the sheets,” he said, shakily pulling his phone from his pocket.  He redialed the number, handing it to the officer, “Listen.”

She put it up to her ear.  Then she sighed.

”It went straight to voicemail, like before.”

”No,” Luke breathed.

In response, she pressed speakerphone and redialled.  As she said, it went to voicemail.

”Ch—check the call history,” he insisted, “You’ll see that he called me this morning.”

She did.  

“I don’t see it,” she said after a moment, handing Luke his phone so he could see for himself, “It doesn’t look like he’s called you for a week or so.”

The blonde stared at the phone, horrified.  That didn’t make sense.

”When did— when did the windows get replaced?” he asked, then.

”Which windows?” she countered.

”They were shattered, on Thursday night.  All of them, on the first floor at least.”

”Hon, we didn’t do anything to the windows,” she said patiently, “The officers who arrived here Thursday night didn’t report any window damage.”

”No!” Luke shouted, slamming his fist on the floor, “They were _shattered_!”

”Hey, cool it,” the male officer warned.

The woman rubbed her face tiredly.

”So,” she said, “You saw his phone upstairs?  Show us.”

”I’m not going back up there,” he said, trying to at least sound _calm_ , since he evidently couldn’t avoid sounding like a lunatic, “It was in the storage room, I heard it going off under one of the sheets.  I’m pretty sure it was an armchair, in the middle of the room near the dining table.”

The officer nodded at her partner, and they started towards the stairs.  Luke didn’t bother to stop them; he had nothing logical to say.  If he heard anything happen to them up there, he’d just haul his own ass out and never come back.

Thankfully, they came back about twenty minutes later, though their hands were empty and they looked displeased.

”We didn’t see the chair you were talking about, but we took the sheets off of everything in that room, took cushions off couches, moved shit around, everything.  We didn’t find the cellphone,” the man said crossly.

Luke looked to one officer, then the next, lost.  They didn’t believe him.  At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if they suspected _him_ of doing something to Michael.

The woman knelt on the floor, putting a comforting hand on Luke’s shoulder, but spoke firmly.

“We’re doing everything we can to find your friend.  I know you feel terrible, and I know it’s hard to feel good about the situation right now.  You’re probably not eating, or taking care of yourself, or sleeping well, and you’re looking for answers anywhere you can.  That’s why I’m _not_ arresting you right now,” she said.  She stood up, “But you need to go _home_. You need to go to _sleep_ , talk to a counselor if you need to, and you _need_ to let us do our job.  And if you come here again, you’re going to jail.  Got it?”

Luke nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  They thought he was crazy.  Maybe they were right.

”Good.  Do you need a ride home?  I can drive you in the squad car and have my partner follow us in your vehicle, if you want.”

”That’s okay,” Luke said weakly, using the wall for support in getting on his feet.

”We’ll escort you to your car,” she said.  It wasn’t a question.

* * *

 

Luke bawled all the way home, somehow having the good fortune not to crash into anything, even though his vision was blurred by tears.  He was crazy, they were right.  Michael was _gone_ , there was no fucking mystery to the house, they’d just stupidly walked in on a territorial squatter who attacked Michael when he’d been startled, and Luke had some psychotic break while the dude dragged his best friend off into the woods, never to be seen again.

When he got home, he crawled into bed, crying some more until he exhausted himself enough to fall into a troubled sleep.  It was definitely unreasonably early for bed, but due to the lack of rest he’d experienced over the weekend, Luke stayed asleep until the next morning.  

He attempted to get ready for school, but broke down while tying his shoes and retreated back into bed, emailing his professors his deepest apologies from his phone, promising he’d be there to complete his final exams the following week.

The blonde declined Calum and Ashton’s invitations to stay with them, and denied their requests to come over, though he knew it would probably feel better to not be alone.

Luke dropped the TV remote apathetically after turning it off just before midnight, interrupting the episode of _Chopped_ that he wasn’t even paying attention to.  The living room was pitch black, and Luke leaned back in the reclining chair, debating on whether he felt like getting up to go to bed, or if he was going to stay glued to the recliner for the night.  Eventually, he decided that since he’d already put in the effort of taking a shower that afternoon for the first time since Monday (it was _Friday_ ), he should be allowed to sleep in the living room.  He reached over to the sofa next to him and pulled off the throw blanket, draping it over himself before rolling over and shutting his eyes.

His phone’s vibrations from between his arm and the fabric of the chair woke him up a few hours later.  He reached for it, and upon seeing “ _poop head_ ” on the caller ID, he groaned aloud in distress.  It (because _it_ wasn’t Michael) had called him every night since Sunday night.  Luke knew by now that it was either a cruel prank, a technical error, or a hallucination, so he didn’t bother answering.  He was too afraid to, anyway, after the second night, when he’d received the same quiet, empty room.  There was never a voicemail left, and it never called back, and Luke knew it wasn’t _real_ , but seeing Michael’s contact name pop up on his phone was painful nonetheless.  Of course, he didn’t have the heart to block the number, even if that had a chance of stopping it.  Turning his phone to “ _do not disturb_ ” mode and even turning the whole thing off hadn’t worked so far.

Luke watched the screen until his voicemail interrupted the ringing.  He sighed unhappily and put the phone back down, aiming to go back to sleep.  

_Bzzz.  Bzzz.  Bzzz._

Luke screamed through his teeth as he stared at the caller ID.  It was calling him twice in a row?   _Fuck that!_

”Why can’t you just leave me alone!” he shrieked, hurling his phone at the nearest wall.  The screen shattered upon impact, silencing the call, and Luke was satisfied for a moment.  But then he heard a _clunk_.

 _God, why am I losing my mind, isn’t losing Michael enough,_ he thought, staring in the general direction of the _clunk_.

He heard it again.

Not a clunk.  A knock.  At the front door.

”Nooo,” Luke moaned, fisting his hands in his own hair and tugging, like that was going to give him some mental clarity.

As the knocking became louder and more insistent, Luke threw the blanket over his head, resolving to hide and possibly piss himself until this apparent hallucination either ended or he was murdered by a human or ghost.

 _This can’t be happening,_ he thought, teeth chattering, _First thing in the morning, I’m calling my parents to set me up with a shrink._

The knocking stopped suddenly, and Luke breathed a sigh of relief.  The feeling was short-lived, though, as he now heard footsteps in his fucking apartment.  Had he even locked the door?

The floor creaked near Luke, _too_ near him, and quickly.  Luke ripped the blanket off from over his head and saw an actual, physical, human-shaped figure lumbering towards him and he let out a blood-curdling scream, only a bit muffled by his own hand clapping over his mouth.  He didn’t want to die in a tie-dye camp t-shirt from tenth grade and a pair of Spongebob boxers.

”What the fuck!  Get out of my house!” he screamed, scrambling out of the chair and throwing himself at the nearest lamp.  He flicked it on, chest heaving.  

And saw a very confused-looking Michael standing before him.

Luke’s heart stopped, staring at the older boy like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck.  He was dirty, covered in mud and leaves and blood, and there was a twig sticking out of his dyed black hair.  There was something _off_ about his appearance, but obviously no one looks their healthiest after a week stranded in the freezing wilderness.

”M-Michael,” Luke breathed, “Is that really—“

He reached out until his fingertips brushed against Michael’s jacket and he could confirm that, yes, this was real.  A broken sob escaped his lips and he rushed forward to embrace the older boy tightly, not caring about the filth and grime covering him from head to toe.

”Where were you?” Luke asked, face buried in Michael’s neck.   Michael said nothing, but hugged Luke back, brow furrowed thoughtfully.

They stood like that until Luke’s knees ached and he gathered a few of his wits.

”God,” he gasped, pulling away, “We need to— you need a hospital, I need to call your parents, we need— hospital first, I’ll drive.“

“I’m not hurt,” Michael said calmly. _Fuck, it was good to hear his voice!_

“But...the blood...” Luke said, raising an eyebrow, “Isn’t it yours?”

Instead of speaking, Michael unzipped his muddy and bloody jacket and dropped it on the floor.  There was a slash in the fabric, as well as through the hoodie and t-shirt Michael was wearing underneath.  But, lifting his shirt to reveal his very much _intact_ skin, Luke found that the older boy wasn’t lying.  There was a faint scar from his shoulder blade that curved down to his belly button where he looked like he’d been slashed open once, but there were no open wounds.

”What happened?” Luke whispered harshly, eyes bulging at the sight.

”I dunno,” Michael shrugged.  Luke gaped at him.

”You’ve been missing in a random forest for a fucking _week_ and you’re not going to say what happened?!” the blonde squeaked, “And even though that _looks_ healed, you still need to—“

”Later, later,” the black haired boy dismissed him, “We’ll do all that shit tomorrow.  Can we just— be together, for now?”

”Of course,” he said, mouth going dry.  He wouldn’t say no to Michael, especially not now, having no idea what kind of hell his best friend had just been through.  And, truthfully, he _did_ desperately want to keep the older boy as long as possible before turning him over to his parents and police and doctors and God knows when Luke would be able to see him again, no matter how selfish that may be.

”Can we cuddle in your room?  Couch is a little small,” Michael asked.

Luke swiped the emotional tears out of his eyes, his face breaking into a smile.

”Yes,” he said.  Michael started off towards the bedroom, and Luke called out awkwardly, “Uh, wait.  Can you— shower first?  And change?”

Michael glanced down at himself, like he just noticed that he was unacceptably dirty.

”That will feel better,” he agreed.

* * *

 

Luke was overwhelmed with a flurry of emotions and was feeling more than a bit panicky when Michael finally crossed the doorway, looking like his normal self in a pair of Nike shorts and Luke’s college sweatshirt.  Except his skin was colorless and his eyes had the darkest circles under them, making his green irises pop with paleness.  It scared Luke how little Michael seemed to _care_ that he had been presumed dead for a week, but he supposed the older boy _could_ be in shock or repressing the whole event to avoid a major freakout.  He sat on the bed, wringing his hands anxiously.

”What’s wrong?” Michael asked, falling onto the mattress and scooping the younger boy into his arms.

”I didn’t know where you were,” Luke whispered uncertainly, “I thought you were— dead.”

”Sheesh, you have no confidence in my survival skills,” Michael said lightly.  He ran his thumbs gently across Luke’s back, “I’m here now.”

Luke stared up at the older boy, confused by the tender gaze he was receiving.  He was less confused by it when Michael leaned in to kiss him with his wind-and-cold chapped lips, but even more confused all over again when he realized that he and Michael were _kissing_ at all.

The blonde jerked back, staring at Michael with wide eyes.

”What are you doing?” he asked, startled.

Michael blinked, apparently taken aback by Luke’s protest.  His expression changed to one of sudden understanding, mixed with a bit of delight, like he’d just discovered something important and fun.

” _Oh_ ,” he said, grinning slowly, “We don’t do that.”

Luke swallowed, eyebrows furrowing.  It wasn’t quite a question, but his friend sounded confused.  Why wouldn’t Michael know that?  They’d kissed twice before; once as little kids while playing house, and once near the end of high school as a dare the first time Luke got drunk, which ended with Luke tearfully admitting to Michael that he thought he might be gay — but he took it back in the morning and never spoke of it again.  It certainly wasn’t a casual or common occurrence.  Luke gave him the benefit of the doubt — getting lost in the woods for a week, not knowing whether you’d live or die, was a good excuse for just about any odd behavior.

”We don’t,” Luke confirmed.

Michael continued to watch him gleefully, and Luke squirmed at the feeling of being studied.  He had to break eye contact — there was something off about the older boy’s eyes.  The soft, deep green was now sickly and empty, and Luke felt like he was looking into the eyes of a dead fish at the supermarket, if he was being brutally honest.  

“Sorry,” Michael said without sounding apologetic in the slightest, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

”You didn’t upset me.  This is just all weird,” he mumbled.  Then, accompanied by a distressed noise from the back of his throat, “ _Jesus_ , Michael, I didn’t even offer you anything to _eat_ , I’m so—“

“It’s okay, I raided your fridge after my shower,” Michael reassured him, “We should sleep. I’m tired, as you may have guessed.”

”Yeah,” Luke agreed hesitantly, nuzzling into Michael’s chest, wrapping his legs around the other boy as if he was going to disappear while he slept.  Michael strained for a moment, groaning exaggerately before reaching the light switch, turning it off.

Luke shifted after a few minutes, and felt a little uncomfortable, sensing that Michael was still staring at him in the darkness.

He shivered involuntarily, suddenly wondering how the hell Michael _got_ to his apartment in the first place.  Michael seemed to take the shiver as a sign that Luke was cold, holding him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading/commenting/etc!!!


	5. Graves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Say what you want,  
> say what you need,  
> my head is a cave   
> where I've been digging graves  
> for you and me

Luke woke up first, relieved to see Michael looking more like himself, asleep with his eyes closed and his mouth open, drooling a little bit on Luke’s pillow.  He stretched, yawning, and pawed around for his phone.

Remembering how he’d chucked his phone at the wall last night, Luke groaned, smacking himself in the forehead.

”What?” Michael asked sleepily beside him, blinking the tiredness from his eyes.

”I broke my phone,” Luke said unhappily.  He could leave out the part where he’d hallucinated Michael calling him over and over again.

”I have a spare at my apartment that you could have,” Michael suggested, “My old one.”

”Don’t you want that?”

”No, why would I want an old iPhone?” Michael asked, “I have a 7.”

“Well, you’ll have to replace your own phone... you lost it, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

”Nah, it’s in my jacket pocket,” the older boy said, his pale eyes flashing towards Luke.

Luke resisted the urge to shiver.

”Weird.  Did you— did you call me at all, this past week?” Luke asked, trying to sound casual.   _How in the world...?_

Michael squinted, scratching the top of his head in thought.

”Not that I know of,” he said after careful consideration, “I wouldn’t have had service out there, right?”

”You would know,” Luke replied, confused, “You were the one out there.  My phone died pretty quickly, I dunno if it would’ve had service.”

”Right,” Michael said.  He shrugged, changing the direction of the conversation, “Well, we should probably tell someone I’m not missing.  And then we can grab the phone from my apartment, if you want it.”

”It’s probably best if you contact the police,” Luke laughed awkwardly, “They’re sick of talking to me.”

* * *

 

Luke gripped the steering wheel as he drove Michael down to the other town’s police station, so they could take his statement and figure out what the hell had happened to him.  Michael’s parents were going to meet them there, too.  Luke’s questions went unanswered aside from noncommittal hums, and Michael offered no explanations on his own, and the blonde wondered what Michael was even going to _say_ when they arrived.

At the moment, Michael was reclined in the passenger seat with his feet up, kicking the dashboard in rhythm with the song playing on the radio.  He kept slapping Luke’s shoulder in tandem with the bass, and it was _annoying_ , and Luke was so _happy_.

”Dude, are you crying?” Michael asked, sitting up properly in his seat.

”No,” Luke insisted with a loud sniff, using his gloved hand to wipe away any collecting tears, “I just— can’t believe you’re here.  It was so hard, not knowing if you were ever coming back.”

”Babyyy Lukeyyy,” Michael teased, jabbing Luke in the gut.  Luke squealed as the car swerved on the empty road, elbowing Michael away from him.

“Don’t do that while I’m driving, you’ll kill us both!” Luke laughed as Michael snickered in the passenger seat.

 

* * *

 

After the tearful reunion between Michael and his parents, the police wanted to get right down to business.  They needed to know if they had a possibly homocidal hobo running around the woods, after all. 

“I don’t remember,” Michael said simply, spinning slowly in a rolling desk chair in the center of the room.

”You don’t remember?” his mother asked incredulously, “You were gone for eight days, sweetheart!”

”What’s the last thing you _do_ remember?” an officer asked.

”Um, let’s see... Luke and I went into the house, and I went upstairs without him ‘cause he’s a pussy—“

”Michael!” his mother interrupted.

”—And I knocked over a lamp, and then, uh, I fell down... and then I heard Luke running up the stairs, and then— nothing.  The next thing I knew, I was in Luke’s apartment, covered in mud and shit.”

The officer frowned, but took notes nonetheless.

”And did you see the person that attacked you? In the abandoned house?” he asked.

Michael seemed to consider this carefully, looking up as if the answer was written on the ceiling.

”I didn’t see anyone else in the house.  Just me and Luke,” he said finally, “Was someone else supposed to be there?”

”Your friend,” the officer said, nodding in Luke’s general direction, “Reported seeing a person in the house and getting chased out.”

Michael looked at Luke strangely.  The paleness of Michael’s eyes was unnerving.  He wondered if anyone else had noticed his chilling stare, or if that was just another little delusional thing that he’d be experiencing from then on.

”I didn’t see anyone,” Michael said without breaking eye contact with Luke, “But I’m sure he wouldn’t lie to you.”

 

* * *

 

Michael requested for Luke to bring him over to the hospital to be checked over, despite his parents’ insistence that he come home with them for the time being.  He also wanted to stay with Luke for the weekend.  Luke obliged to both pleas, though he wasn’t too happy that Michael had thrown him under the bus at the police station.

”You really didn’t see anyone at that house?” Luke asked in the urgent care waiting room.  They were waiting on the results for a head scan, which had been requested due to Michael’s apparent memory loss.

”Nope.  Sorry.”

”Nothing...weird...or...?” 

“Luke, you sound paranoid,” Michael said, patting the younger boy’s hand where it rested on the arm of the stiff chair. “Why?  What did you see?”

“If you promise not to laugh,” Luke started. Michael nodded solemnly, gesturing in a ‘ _cross my heart and hope to die_ ’ motion, so Luke continued, “Just monsters in the closet-type stuff.  Y’know, being alone and spooked in a dark abandoned house can make you think coat racks are people and whatever.    I thought I saw some kind of _thing_ in the storage room, I heard you calling for me from multiple places at once, and the windows— they shattered, and I got hit in the face with flying glass, but then, the glass wasn’t broken,” Luke admitted, “And there was this face— and it had these eyes—“

”And did anything happen on Monday?”

Luke paused.

”What?”

”When you went back on Monday, did you see anything weird?”

Luke searched his thoughts.  He licked his lips before speaking, hands twisting together in his lap.

”How did you know I went on Monday?” he asked quietly.

Michael wrinkled his nose at him.

”Uh, you told me last night?” he said, seemingly confused about Luke’s obliviousness.

”I did not.”

”Yeah, you did.”

”No, I didn’t.”

”How else would I know you went back on Monday?” Michael asked, exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air.  Luke didn’t have an answer for that.

”I dunno,” he mumbled, averting his gaze.

”Jeez, no wonder the cops got sick of you,” Michael said, rolling his eyes, “Get a grip and stop reading creepy stories on Reddit before bed every night.  This is real life, you didn’t see shit in that house.”

”I know,” Luke said, “I just— I know someone else was in the house.  Like, a human, obviously.  That can’t just be my imagination.  Otherwise, how would you go missing?  You just wandered off in a trance or something?”

“I dunno, maybe you did it,” Michael said with a shrug, “Not like I remember.”

Luke stared at Michael, horrified.

”Why would you say that?” he asked.

”I’m just joking, c’mon,” Michael said slyly, nudging Luke in the shoulder.

”Well, _don’t_ , because if you go around _joking_ to everyone that I tried to kill you or some bullshit, the cops are gonna come after _me_!” Luke hissed angrily.

Michael blew a raspberry at Luke.

”The cops are not gonna fucking come after you because I made a joke, dumbass,” Michael said mockingly.

Luke glared at the older boy until a doctor came into the waiting room and let the pair know that Michael’s scan came back fine, but the memory loss most likely meant that he’d suffered from a concussion, so he should be extra careful and return if he experienced any worrisome symptoms.

”Really helpful advice,” Michael had told the woman sarcastically.

They stopped at Michael’s place to grab a bag of clothes and the older iPhone Michael had promised, went to the grocery store because all Luke had in his kitchen were pickles and potato chips, and went home, exhausted.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, I don’t know how people eat steak that rare,” Luke said, grimacing as Michael stuffed his face with a steak that had just been barely seared on both sides.

”I was lost in the woods for a week, shut up about my choice of homecoming meals,” Michael said between bites, “You should be taking me out to a steakhouse, if you really care about me.”

Luke scoffed, crossing his arms.

”You don’t even remember being out there, so it’s not like you even need a special homecoming meal anyway,” he said jokingly.

”No, but my body needs it.  It woke me up this morning and said, ‘ _Michael, goddamnit, you need some raw meat to get the color back in your cheeks,_ ’” Michael said, following his bites of steak with microwaveable mashed potatoes.

The younger boy made a fake barfing noise, inspecting the chicken on his plate carefully, as if it was going to uncook itself just from being around Michael’s steak.

 

* * *

 

“It’s really convenient that you’d come back now,” Luke said, scribbling in a notebook while scrolling down a PowerPoint presentation on his laptop, “I was such a wreck, I would’ve failed all my finals.”

Michael’s eyes widened.  He was cuddled up next to Luke on the couch, cheek resting against the younger boy’s shoulder as he stared at the TV.

”Oh shit,” he said, “Finals.”

”I’m sure all your professors have been watching the news.  If you show up at all, they’ll definitely pass you,” Luke reassured him.

Michael and Luke had barely stopped touching since getting back to the blonde’s apartment, with Michael clinging to Luke the entire time.  His speech was off at times and he hadn’t seemed to remember where Luke kept his silverware, and even his occasional biting comments made Luke’s chest ache with sympathy and guilt for whatever obviously traumatic events had occurred over the past week.  He doubted Michael remembered _none_ of it, but didn’t want to push the older boy into talking if he wasn’t ready.  He enjoyed the clinging, anyway.

 

* * *

 

After showering that night, Luke stared in the bathroom mirror, dressed in a pair of comfy joggers and a random band t-shirt.  He was flossing his teeth while simultaneously inspecting his face for spots that he would _definitely_ pick at and make worse after telling himself multiple times that he _shouldn’t_ do that.  He tossed the floss in the tiny garbage can next to the sink and heard the loud creak of the hallway floorboards.  Instinctually he glanced at the reflection of the open doorway behind him in the mirror, expecting to see Michael walk past, but there was nothing there.  Either Michael had jogged past before Luke could see, or this apartment was just old as shit and creaking for no good reason, like usual.  Luke shrugged internally and went back to his nightly routine of obsessively searching the bridge of his nose for possible blackheads when Michael sighed loudly from close behind him, making him jump and jab himself in the face with a fingernail.

Luke whirled around, seeing Michael leaning against the doorway, tapping his foot, which made him jump yet again.

”Are you ever going to be done?” Michael asked impatiently.

”Wh—how— how did you get there?” Luke gasped, eyes wide.

”Um, I’ve been standing here for like three minutes watching you poke at imaginary zits,” Michael said, swishing his black bangs out of his eyes, “I gotta piss.”

Luke stuttered, flustered.   _He hadn’t— what—_

“Why— how— wha— you don’t have a fucking _reflection_ in the mirror!” Luke all but screeched, not knowing how he was the only one having an issue with this.  If Michael had been staring at Luke’s reflection the entire time, surely he would’ve noticed the absence of his own.

Michael squinted at him, wrinkling his nose in confusion.  He gestured vaguely behind Luke, and Luke slowly turned back around.  Sure enough, in the mirror he could see Michael pointing.  Like any normal person would expect.

“What the fuck,” Luke breathed, pushing his hair away from his forehead with both hands, “I swear to god, you—“

”You’re so fucking weird,” Michael said, shaking his head and entering the bathroom.  He started unzipping his pants, “You might want to leave, unless you want to end up in the splash zone.”

 

* * *

 

“So how long have you been seeing things?  Have you been crazy forever and I just somehow didn’t notice?” Michael asked teasingly, hopping over Luke on the mattress so he could use the younger boy as a human body pillow.

”I’m not seeing things,” Luke answered grumpily.  He opened his arms to invite Michael in for a cuddle anyway.

”You literally _accused me of not having a fucking reflection_ ,” Michael scoffed.

”See?  That time, I actually _didn’t_ see anything, technically,” Luke retorted, sticking his tongue out. 

“You know what I meant!  And the stuff with the house, it’s just—“

”You said you wouldn’t make fun of me for that,” the blonde replied defensively, “And I told you, it was dark, and I was scared, and my mind needed to fill in the blanks with something, and now you’re suddenly back and I’m _still_ freaked out, because I don’t know what happened, which means you could just disappear again at any time!  I spent the last week wondering how my life was supposed to go on with my best friend gone forever, and I know whatever happened to you was a thousand times worse, but fuck, it _hurt_.”

Michael shifted, propping himself up on both elbows, his face hovering just above Luke’s.

”I’m here now,” Michael said quietly, his dark eyelashes accentuating the paleness of his irises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Luke’s face felt hot, watching Michael’s tongue swipe across his lips between sentences.

”Well, you better not,” Luke replied awkwardly, trying to tear his gaze away from the older boy’s mouth before he noticed.

Michael caught him staring and his lips quirked into a playful grin.  He leaned down, stopping just short of Luke’s mouth.

”Can I?” he whispered.  He hadn’t _asked_ before.

Luke nodded after a moment’s hesitation.  He didn’t say no to Michael.  This time, it felt okay.

His heart was pounding as Michael kissed him.  His lips were still a bit chapped, but Luke found it pleasant anyway.  He still didn’t know how he felt about kissing Michael, just that it was absolutely necessary, in this moment.  It was emotional, like there was no other way they could’ve reunited with eachother properly.

Michael hummed happily as Luke took initiative by adding tongue to the mix.

”Was that your first french kiss?” Michael laughed when they pulled apart to breathe.

”Shut up,” Luke whispered as his cheeks burned, tugging Michael’s hair to bring him back down.

Instead of kissing the younger boy, Michael bit down on Luke’s lower lip, tugging on his black lip ring with his teeth until Luke squeaked with confused pleasure.  In an overwhelmed haze, Luke gripped Michael’s black hair tightly as the older boy pressed sloppy kisses across his face, his jaw, down to his neck.

Luke’s breath caught in his throat when Michael began biting and sucking marks onto his neck and collarbone.  He found himself rolling his hips against Michael’s thigh, the black haired boy’s knee firmly planted between Luke’s legs.

The blonde was moaning encouragingly, moving his clawing fingers down to Michael’s shoulders, where he pulled the older boy’s torso even closer to himself.  Michael’s hands went up Luke’s shirt, his nails raking down Luke’s ribcage.  

“Ugh, Michael,” Luke whimpered, grinding himself against Michael’s thigh more eagerly, “I’m—“

Luke’s eyes snapped open, crashing back to reality as Michael nipped at his throat roughly.  I’m... _what?  What the hell am I doing?_

”Wait—“ Luke said, nearly inaudible, confusion rushing in.  Then, louder, “Michael, stop.”

The older boy paused, and Luke could see the gears turning in Michael’s head, and for a weird moment he was _afraid_ of Michael.  Luke shoved at him, when he didn’t move away.  Michael rolled off slowly, as if to show that he was moving because he _wanted_ to, not because Luke’s shoves were effective.  Luke scooted backwards, nearly falling off the side of the bed.

”What’s wrong?” Michael asked after a few moments of watching Luke’s chest heave.

”What was that,” he asked, wide eyed and panicky.  He adjusted the collar of his t-shirt, which had gotten stretched out from Michael yanking it down his shoulder.

“Who cares?” Michael scoffed, “We were having fun, weren’t we?”

“I told you we don’t do that.”

”I _asked_ if I could kiss you!  It’s not my fault you started fucking yourself on my leg and almost came in your pants.  Talk about _zero to one hundred_.”

“I need to think,” Luke said quietly, grabbing a pillow from next to Michael’s head.  He stood shakily, clutching the pillow to his chest.

“ _Please_ , that was nothing,” Michael snorted.

”I’m just— I’m gonna go sleep on the couch,” Luke said.  Michael gaped at him incredulously.

”Seriously?  You’re such a fucking virgin.”

Luke glared at the older boy, but his blue eyes betrayed him and Michael could tell he was hurt.  Like a kicked puppy.  Michael scowled before his features softened, and he opened his mouth to apologize— but Luke cut him off.

”Goodnight,” he said, whirling out the door and heading quickly towards the living room.

* * *

 

Luke’s eyebrows twitched as he slept, jostling around on the sofa that barely accommodated his long legs.  The siren of an ambulance, or maybe a fire truck, wailed as it sped down the road, waking Luke up with its noise and lights through the living room curtain.  He blinked groggily, grabbing the fallen throw blanket from the floor and wrapping himself back in it.  He flipped over, and his heart stopped for a moment when he saw someone standing in the hallway, pale eyes glinting even in the dim moonlight.

”Michael,” Luke wheezed, scrambling to activate the flashlight on his borrowed phone.   _Damn that old iOS system._ Finally, he pointed it at the space he’d seen Michael standing just a few seconds ago, but the older boy was no longer there.  He strained his ears— maybe Michael was on his way to the bathroom or something.  After waiting for what felt like an hour and hearing nothing, Luke felt confident he could chalk that sighting up to his new set of delusions, and hesitantly fell back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and everything else! hope you had a happy holiday season!


	6. Atheists in Foxholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just playing house  
> No idea what I'm doing now

“What’cha doing?” Luke asked, unable to stand Michael silently tying his shoes any longer.

”Going home,” the older boy muttered, finally succeeding in double lacing his Converse sneakers.  He slung his backpack over his shoulder.

”Are your parents picking you up?” Luke asked, confused.

”No, like, I’m walking home. To my apartment,” Michael said, “Sorry about last night.”

”I mean, it’s— it’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to leave,” Luke said, the blanket sliding off of him as he sat up on the sofa.

”I just want to be at home for a little while.  And you probably have exams to study for or something,” Michael said passive-aggressively.  He reached for the handle of the apartment’s front door.

”Don’t,” Luke said.  The thought of Michael disappearing on his way home made Luke’s heart jump to his throat.  Even though the walk was no more than twenty minutes, he felt like it was a risk. “At least let me drive you.”

Michael scoffed at him, making a show of rolling his eyes as the blonde scrambled to put his boots and coat on.

* * *

”Where is your car, anyway?” Luke asked curiously, watching the road carefully as snow began to fall.

”Dunno,” Michael said, “Cops probably have it.  I hope they don’t charge me for the tow truck.”

”Then... how did you get to my house the other night?” Luke asked, “It’s almost an hour drive to where you were, so...”

”I don’t _know_ , Luke,” Michael hissed between grit teeth, “Can you stop interrogating me for, like, one hour?  Jesus Christ, I already said I don’t know what fucking happened.”

“‘Kay,” Luke said innocently, pulling into the parking lot at the older boy’s apartment building.

They didn’t say anything for a minute, Michael’s expression changing a few times, like he didn’t want to snap at Luke again but didn’t want to have to apologize, so eventually he just opened the passenger door and slid out.

”I’ll see you later?” Michael suggested simply.

”Yeah, of course.” 

* * *

Michael clung to Luke’s arm possessively as the younger boy pointedly ignored him.  An episode of _Black Mirror_ was playing across the living room TV and Luke grit his teeth as he tuned Michael out and attempted to focus on the plot. 

“Hey, Luke, hey Luke, hey Luke,” Michael said, squishing his cheek against Luke’s bicep, “Hey, hey, hey, hey—“

”Shut up!” Luke snapped.

Apparently unhappy with being ignored, Michael leaned in and bit Luke’s shoulder, making the blonde jump.

”Ow, what the fuck!” Luke spat, yanking his arm out of the older boy’s grasp, “ _What_?”

”I was just wondering when you last had a girlfriend,” Michael said innocently.

Luke glared at him.  Michael knew damn well when he’d last had a girlfriend, and he’d been trying to rile Luke up all day with passively rude comments like that.

”Shut up,” he said again, quietly.

”Have you finally stopped pretending you’re into girls?”

”I _am_ into girls,” Luke said, rather unconvincingly.

”What’s your _favorite_ thing about girls?” Michael asked, grinning.

”They’re, uh— they—“ Luke stuttered, cheeks burning red, “Uh—boobs, of course.”

”You don’t like girls,” Michael stated, “You told me that, remember?”

Luke’s mouth was dry, and he didn’t bother to answer because he knew a weak gurgling sound was probably going to come out instead of whatever shitty comeback he’d think of.  Ah, there it was _‘How do you remember I said that when you couldn’t even find a fucking spoon this morning?’_  Yeah, definitely a shitty comeback.  The blonde trained his blue eyes back on the TV, grabbing the remote to turn up the volume.

The black haired boy slithered up closer, his lips brushing Luke’s ear as he spoke.

“I’m all you’ve wanted for a long time, right?” he asked, making Luke shiver, “You’re afraid to admit you’re not straight  because then you’ll have to admit that it’s me.”

The younger boy forgot to breathe for a moment, his eyes sliding back towards Michael, the rest of him frozen in place.  Michael’s pale puke-fucking-green eyes had a mischievous twinkle to them, his plump red lips parted as he waited for Luke’s response.  God, he _did_ want him.  He found himself able to swallow, finally, a lump forming in his throat.

”Why would you think that?” he croaked.  

”I can _see_ it,” Michael said vaguely, his eyes burning a hole in Luke’s, “I can _hear_ it, in your heartbeat.”

Luke didn’t know what the _hell_ that meant but it sounded fucking terrifying, and it must’ve shown on his face that he was utterly spooked because Michael’s ominous expression broke into a genuine smile and he laughed, slapping Luke’s thigh as he straightened.

”I’m joking, you freak,” Michael snickered.  Luke blinked, shocked.  His mouth opened and closed a few times, but— “Fuck, I wish I’d been recording your reaction, Jesus fucking Christ, dude.”

Not knowing at all how to react, Luke flopped back against the couch and stared blankly at the screen in front of him, saying nothing.  Michael eventually stopped cracking himself up and sighed, settling back into his former position quietly, like nothing had even happened. 

* * *

Luke clutched a cardboard cup in his hands, feeling the warmth of the coffee inside it.  He sat across from Calum at the café on campus, where the coffee was shitty and overpriced but vital during finals week.  They decided to meet up and go over their notes one last time before their biology exam later that afternoon.  After that exam was finished, they’d finally both be free for a month-long winter break.

”I think,” Calum said, lounging back in his padded chair, “If we don’t know it by now, we’re never going to know it.”

Luke laughed.

”At least I only need a 64% to pass,” he joked.

At that, Ashton came barrelling into the café and slid another chair up to the two-person table.  Luke grimaced at the sound of it scraping against the floor.

“Hey, what’s up?  You didn’t invite me to your little study party?” Ashton said lightheartedly, “I just got out of my last exam— I think I _might_ have passed.”

”Cool, we just have bio left and then we’re both done for the semester,” Luke explained, sliding his notebook off the table and returning it to his backpack.

”Where’s Michael at?” Ashton asked.

”He’s taking an exam right now, actually. I think he just has one more tomorrow, and he’ll be free too,” Luke said.

”They better be really lenient with his grades,” Calum said, eyebrows furrowing, “I mean, they’ll _have_ to excuse the week he missed, but I doubt he’s gonna be able to just snap back into school mode right away.  It’s bullshit they didn’t let him reschedule.”

“Right?” Ashton agreed.

”Hey,” Luke interjected, “Have either of you noticed...anything... _weird_ about Michael?”

”Uh, I mean, sometimes he starts talking like a malfunctioning robot, but then again, he _was_ clobbered over the head with a brick or something.  Why?” Ashton said.

“I think there’s something wrong with him,” Luke said hesitantly.

”Oh, you mean, like he was kidnapped and held hostage in the frozen wilderness for a week with some psycho?” Calum asked sarcastically.

”No,” Luke snapped, “I mean, like... you’ve seen _Jennifer’s Body_ , right?”

”Oh my god, shut _up_ ,” Calum groaned, covering his face with his hands exhaustedly.

”What are you talking about?” Ashton asked, laughing, “Are you suggesting Michael’s a demon?”

“Something hasn’t been right since he came back, and we still don’t know what even happened!” Luke said frustratedly, “Why am I the only one bothered by this?”

”He obviously suffered some kind of trauma, and if he doesn’t want to talk about it, and isn’t going to see a shrink, he’s gonna act weird,” Calum said, shrugging, “I’m gonna let him do him, because at least he’s _here_.”

”Wait, wait,” Ashton said, waving Calum away dismissively, “Luke, that is a fucking steep-ass accusation.  I’m gonna have to hear some evidence.”

“Uh, well—“ Luke said, “I think— I think he’s trying to get me to sleep with him.”

” _Huh_?” Ashton and Calum exclaimed in unison.

”Nice,” Calum said then, high-fiving Ashton.

“Okay, but— _what_?” Ashton asked, mouth hanging open, “Like, seriously?”

”Yes!” Luke insisted, nodding, “When he first got to my house, he kissed me— and then the next night, he wanted to make out, and started giving me a hickey—“

”Luke!” Calum gasped excitedly, flapping his hands proudly, “Was that your first hickey?!”

Luke stuttered, blushing.  He frowned, shaking his head.

”Not the point!  Anyway, I wanted to stop and he basically insulted me for being a prude, and then last night we were watching Netflix and he fucking _bit_ me and told me he _knew_ I’ve always wanted him!” Luke whined.

”Is— is that true?” Ashton asked curiously, “I mean, I always kinda _thought_ you were a little—“

” _Can you just fucking focus on what I’m saying!_ ” Luke shrieked.

He flinched at the sound of his own shrill voice, shooting a glare at the other café customers who’d all glanced up to figure out which idiot was screaming about being gay in public while they were trying to study.  How embarrassing.

”Is that not _weird_?” Luke whispered harshly, shoulders hunched.

”Alright, weird, yes, but, uh, Michael suddenly wanting some physical affection from someone he really cares about and trusts does not mean he’s turned into fucking _succubus Megan Fox_ , dude,” Calum said skeptically.  He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

”Calum’s right,” Ashton said, “Just seems like something really awful happened to him and he really needs comfort from you right now.”

Luke balked at that, eyes wide.  His gaze shifted between Calum and Ashton, shocked.

”What, so I’m just supposed to let him aggressively pressure me into sleeping with him and it’s fine because he’s upset about stuff?!” Luke said incredulously.

”No, dummy, don’t let him pressure you into anything.  That’s not okay, and we can all have a conversation with him about that if you’re uncomfortable doing it alone.  But you should probably fucking talk to him about everything and maybe offer to go _with_ him to a counselor instead of jumping to the wild-ass conclusion that he’s a literal _demon_ ,” Ashton said, rolling his eyes.

“Well— he, well—“ Luke stammered, “He’s been— doing a lot of...other...weird shit too...” 

He trailed off, quickly realizing that anyone trying to accuse someone of being a horror movie creature was obviously not going to be taken seriously.  They thought he was nuts, and he hadn’t even told them about the shit he’d seen in the abandoned house.  He’d be forcibly institutionalized by the time he figured this mess out.

“Which I’m sure can all be explained by a head injury, exposure to the elements, PTSD, and other general side effects that come with being lost in the woods for a week,” Calum chimed in.

”But—“ 

Calum smiled, looking past Luke, just over the younger boy’s shoulder.

”And there he is,” Calum greeted, waving at Michael, who was approaching their tiny table in the café.

Michael came up behind Luke, wrapping his arms around the blonde and squeezing him in a tight hug, nearly toppling him over in his seat.  Luke patted his best friend’s arm weakly.

”Hiii,” Michael said, taking a deep whiff of Luke’s curly hair, “You smell nice.  You shower for once?”

”Rude,” Luke joked back, forcing his lips into a smile, “How’d your exam go?  And, uh, how did you know we were here?”

”I texted him and told him to meet us here when he got out,” Ashton explained easily, knowing exactly what Luke’s paranoid brain was thinking.

”And I think my exam went pretty well, considering everything!” Michael said cheerfully, “Definitely didn’t _completely_ flunk this semester.”

”Hey, can y’all shut the fuck up over there?” Another student finally shouted from across the otherwise-silent coffeeshop at the group of loud boys.

Michael stared quizzically at his friends, and Calum sighed.

”We should probably move to a McDonald’s or something,” he said, gesturing towards Luke, “Luke had a little outburst, so everyone here kinda hates us now.”

* * *

“I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately,” Michael said sheepishly, kicking at the snow-dusted cement with the toe of his boot.  He took a puff from his cigarette.

Luke sat shivering on a nearby bench after brushing the snow off of it.  Michael had asked him to come out for a smoke with him, and even though Luke didn’t smoke cigarettes, he didn’t say no to Michael’s request.  He’d been helping Michael study for his last exam at the library for the past two hours, so he guessed a ten minute break was fine.  Even though it was cold as fuck outside.

”I understand,” Luke said between chattering teeth.

”I just...I dunno, I feel like I’m so afraid of being alone that I’ve been clinging extra hard, but I’m also afraid of being— vulnerable, so I’ve been rude as hell too,” Michael said quietly, “So I hope you’re not mad at me.  I guess I’m not coping well.”

Luke blinked.  Well, that sounded downright rational.

”I get it,” he sighed, staring at his shoes.

Michael walked over carefully, sitting on the bench next to Luke and staring at the younger boy’s shoes with him.

“If you want me to stop staying over at your place so often, just say the word,” Michael offered.

Luke scoffed, tapping his toes on the sidewalk.  He glanced at Michael, and found his expression to be sincere.  His cheeks were rosy from the cold air and he even looked a little nervous, afraid of Luke’s rejection.

”No,” Luke said, shaking his head, “You think I’m not scared of being by myself?  Whenever you’re not at my house, I get, like, irrationally afraid that you’re going to just...disappear again, and I’ll be alone.  Again.”

Michael headbutted Luke’s shoulder affectionately.

”So it’s decided.  We’re both afraid of being alone so we’re trapped in an endless sleepover nightmare,” he said lightheartedly.

”I guess so,” Luke said, “But... maybe you should...talk to someone, anyway.  Like a professional.  So you don’t have to be afraid.  I could go with you?  I dunno, Ashton suggested it.”

“No,” Michael said simply, “I don’t know what I’d say to a professional, anyway.”

“You still don’t remember anything?” Luke asked.

The older boy put his cigarette back up to his lips, taking another long drag before exhaling the smoke and speaking.

”I think it was dark. And cold,” Michael said, gesturing with his cigarette vaguely, “And I was alone.”

Luke squinted at him, reaching under his beanie to scratch his head thoughtfully.  If Michael was _that_ injured, there was no way he could’ve survived in the wilderness by himself.

“Do you think you were, like, kept in a basement or something?”

“That’s not it,” Michael said, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to remember.  He threw his finished cigarette on the concrete and stomped it out, smearing black ash across the snowy sidewalk, “It was like— I was in the walls, or underground, or I was—“ Michael grimaced, “...Dead. —Nevermind, I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you were drugged,” Luke suggested.  

Some heavy, _heavy_ drugs.

”Maybe.  I mean, I guess I must’ve been,” Michael said, shrugging.

* * *

_So, it’s just that I’ve been heading off the deep end,_ Luke thought, listing off Michael’s recent odd behaviors into Google.  

Every symptom was consistent with being drugged, or, as Calum had pointed out, PTSD and physical injuries.  Luke had breathed a silent sigh of relief upon learning that information, but it was short-lived as the blonde realized what this revelation implied about his own apparently deteriorating mental health.  Who in their right mind would instantly assume their presumably-kidnapped best friend had turned into a fucking demon?  Not to mention imagining glowing eyes and hallucinating horrifying faces with no features.

 _Then again..._ Luke thought, eyeing Michael suspiciously, _It’s almost too convenient that he knew exactly what to say earlier, outside of the library._

The older boy was sprawled out on Luke’s bed, asleep.  He’d dozed off in the middle of studying and he was currently drooling onto an open notebook, his black hair tangling in the spiral binding.

Ashton or Calum could’ve filled him in, he supposed, but something didn’t feel right.  There were still things that lacked an explanation, and Michael provided none, either changing the subject or claiming not to remember.  It was entirely possible that all of that was just in Luke’s head— but what if that’s what Michael _wanted_ him to think?

As if on cue, Michael’s eyes opened and his pale irises focused on Luke intently.  Luke pointedly glanced away, quickly switching to less conspicuous apps on his phone.

”Watching me sleep now?” Michael teased, smiling with too many teeth.  His eyes looked like roadkill staring at him from the shoulder of the highway.  They used to be such a pretty, deep green, just a few weeks ago.

”Why are your eyes like that?” Luke blurted out.

Michael scowled at him, pushing himself up to a seated position.

”You’re crazy,” he spat venomously.  

Luke raised his eyebrows, surprised by the reaction.  He’d expected to be met with a passive shutdown or a menacing threat.  Instead, it just sounded like Michael— the _old_ Michael— when someone brought up something he was insecure about.

”Sorry?” Luke said, perplexed as to why he was even apologizing, but Michael was already pouting about the comment, dragging himself across the sheets until he was as far from Luke on the mattress as he could get.  He even pulled his notebook along with him, burying his face in it as he pretended to continue studying for his exam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading/kudos and especially thanks for everyone who comments, i love reading your responses!!


	7. Is It Still Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, now I do recall  
> We just were getting to the part  
> Where the shock sets in  
> And the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick  
> I sure hope you didn't expect to get all of the attention  
> Let's not get selfish  
> Did you really think I'd let you kill this chorus?

_“We should all meet on the first floor of the Student Union after Michael’s exam,” Ashton had told them, “Calum and I have some stuff to pack up for winter break for our club so we’ll be on campus anyway.”_

Luke had overestimated Michael’s test-taking skills, apparently, because he’d arrived at the Union, gotten himself a strawberry-banana smoothie and a chocolate chip cookie from the café, and claimed two sofas (using his laptop, coat, and a shoe as people-blockers, of course) and still had to wait about twenty minutes for Michael to finally show up.

Predictably, Michael tossed the shoe off the sofa cushion and plopped down right next to Luke, lounging against the younger boy.  His hand came down to rest on Luke’s thigh.

”How did it go,” Luke asked, innocently sipping his half-empty smoothie.

“It was okay,” Michael said, grinning, “The professor thanked me for a wonderful semester and put my test in a separate pile, so that seemed like a good sign.”

Luke nodded in agreement, tapping his fingers on the plastic cup in his hands.  Michael was watching him expectantly, but Luke didn’t know what he wanted and he didn’t really want to ask.

”Um, do you want a bite of this?” Luke offered, holding up the paper-wrapped chocolate chip cookie that’d been sitting in his lap.

Michael nodded enthusiastically.  Luke held it out for him to take, but Michael just opened his mouth wide, staring at Luke intently.  The blonde’s cheeks burned as he reluctantly broke off a piece of the cookie and fed it to Michael.  His breath caught in his throat as the older boy licked the tips of Luke’s fingers.

Luke snatched his hand away, glancing quickly around the lounge to make sure no one else had noticed.  Michael leaned back, brushing his black bangs out of his eyes with his free hand before taking out his phone and casually scrolling down the Instagram app.  His fingers continued to creep across Luke’s thigh, eventually sliding dangerously close to his crotch.

Clearing his throat, Luke shifted nervously and his heart fluttered.

”There are people around,” he muttered embarrassedly, squeezing his smoothie cup.

”Do you want me to stop?”

”I—“ Luke hid his reddened face in the big mustard yellow scarf he’d wrapped around his neck that morning.  He didn’t know. ”Whatever,” he said weakly.

Luke’s neck snapped up, hearing Calum shout “Whaddup!” as he and Ashton approached.  He jerked away from Michael’s touch, since Calum’s greeting had garnered attention from other nearby students and he didn’t want them _looking_.

”Hey,” Michael said, waving his phone at them.

”You drive here?” Ashton asked.  Luke shook his head.  He’d taken the bus to avoid paying for parking.  Michael nodded, however.  Ashton made finger guns at him, “Cool, Calum and I took the bus so you get to drive us home.”

”Did you really make us all meet here just so Michael could drive you home?” Luke asked, scoffing.

”No, of course not.  You get to hang out with us too, but we have a party tonight so.  Gotta get home and make some queso and shit,” Ashton said.

”Though I wouldn’t be opposed to lunch,” Calum said thoughtfully.

”Yeah, me neither, if Luke pays,” Ashton said.

”Yeah, I think Luke should pay.  That sounds fair,” Calum agreed, “His parents pay his rent.”

Luke rolled his eyes.

”Just because my parents are rich doesn’t mean _I’m_ rich,” Luke said.

”Oh yeah?  How much allowance did they send you this week?  Five hundred bucks?” Ashton asked sarcastically.

The younger boy glared at him, frowning.

”Fine, I’ll pay for lunch,” he mumbled, defeated, “But it’s gonna be fast food.”

 

* * *

 

Luke was confused, but at this point, Michael affectionately holding his hand under the cover of the Taco Bell tabletop was the least worrisome thing that’d happened to him within the past few weeks, so he pushed it to the back of his mind because at least it felt _nice_.

Michael had even offered to pay for his own lunch, which almost never happened.  And while Ashton and Calum were making the queso and guac for the party in the kitchen, Michael had caught Luke in the hallway to ask if the blonde wanted to go home and hang out by themselves, because he knew parties could be uncomfortable for Luke, who wasn’t known for being a social butterfly.  Michael wasn’t either, really, but he didn’t pass up opportunities for free booze and weed.  A little surprised, Luke declined and said he’d be fine.

”Well, we’re gonna cling together anyway,” Michael said, smiling at him.

* * *

 

But now, Luke was feeling stupid, nervously picking at the sticker label on a beer bottle while Michael chatted up a group of people he’d neglected to introduce Luke to while making his own introduction.  

He didn’t even like beer, but when he’d grabbed the vodka and orange juice, Michael cracked open a bottle of the world’s worst beer and shoved it at him, telling him not to make a pussy drink.

_“I don’t like beer,” Luke had said, wrinkling his nose at the offering._

_”Oh, so you’re just going to waste Ashton’s beer?  You can’t just give it away, no one’s gonna take an opened beer at a college party,” Michael replied._

_”Why don’t you just take it?” Luke groaned.  Why did Michael have to be difficult?_

_”I don’t like beer,” Michael said simply, pouring himself a mixed drink._

_Luke groaned again, stomping his feet in frustration.  Michael knew he wouldn’t say no to him, so he smirked and left the kitchen before Luke could whine further._

“Oh, sorry,” Michael interrupted himself suddenly.  He widened the social circle, putting his arm around Luke to squeeze him in, “By the way, this is my needy friend, Luke.  I’m babysitting him tonight.”

Luke was stunned at the comment, blinking his blue eyes in disbelief and embarrassment. He mustered up a weak smile as Michael’s new friends greeted him with their laughter.

Technically, Luke was now included in the conversation, but he remained the butt of several of Michael’s jokes.  After the fourth _“Haha, Luke is a loser”_ -esque jab, the blonde excused himself to get another drink.

After chucking the empty beer bottle into the recycling bin with a loud crash, Luke made himself a fucking screwdriver like he’d wanted in the first place.

Luke trudged back into the living room, but found the group, including Michael, gone.  Calum’s bedroom door was closed, and Luke guessed they’d decided to smoke in there.  He shrugged and went to sit on the couch. He barely liked weed anyway, it always made him cough too much, which, in turn, made him feel like an inexperienced fourteen year old.

He could’ve gone to find Ashton and Calum for company, who were probably having a wild time on the balcony, but Luke was feeling sorry for himself and wanted to see how long it took for Michael to check on him again.

Pouting, Luke sat on the sofa and played with his phone, ignoring everything around him aside from sneaking glances at the closed bedroom door.

 _What are you, twelve?_ he asked himself.

Eventually the door opened and people poured out, giggling amongst themselves on their way to the kitchen for drink refills.  But Michael wasn’t one of them, to Luke’s surprise.   _Had he been sulking for no reason?_  He looked at his phone, pulling up his chat with Michael, when he saw two more people emerge from Calum’s room out of the corner of his eye.   _Oh, there he was._

Michael walked through the doorway, followed closely by some tall guy with dark brown hair.  He seemed very interested in what the other boy was saying, his eyes crinkled from the huge smile on his face.  They crossed the living room and disappeared into the kitchen with the others.  Luke waited another minute or so, expecting the group to make their drinks and pile back into the living room or Calum’s room, but they didn’t.  Finally, he stood up with a sigh, intent on reminding Michael that he still existed before giving up on the older boy in favor of clinging to Ashton and Calum instead.

Luke moved toward the kitchen doorway, but before he could push his way in, Michael knocked into him, causing both of their drinks to slosh dangerously.  Michael had been walking backwards, leading the other boy out of the kitchen by his belt loop with a sly grin on his face, and ran into Luke since he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.

”Hey, watch it!” Michael snapped instinctively, whirling around.  He blinked when he saw it was Luke. “Oh, it’s just you.  Hi.”

Luke opened his mouth to ask what he was doing or what his fucking problem was or at least to respond with a ‘ _hi_ ’ back, but instead he closed it again, clenching his teeth, and made a beeline for the bathroom down the hall.  He shut the door, and all but slammed his cup down on the counter.

 _‘Just me?!’_ he asked himself as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, offended.

The blonde sat down on the closed toilet seat, burying his face in his hands.  He tried and failed to make sense of the day’s events, with Michael putting moves on him and then taking them away, which grew into the overarching problem of _what the hell has been wrong with Michael this past week_ and _I can’t actually be, like, gay for him, right?_ Luke’s head hurt and someone knocked on the bathroom door so he gladly cut his thinking session short, peed (‘cause he was sure there’d be a line full of pukers compromising the bathroom soon), and left.  

On his way out of the bathroom, he glanced over towards the adjacent dining room.  He wished he hadn’t, though, because Michael and _that guy_ were sitting next to eachother at the dining table, Michael’s chair angled so the black-haired boy could drape his legs over the other’s lap, and they were staring at eachother as if it was time to start banging right then and there in front of God and everyone.

Luke jumped as Michael’s pale eyes flashed towards him, like the older boy could sense Luke’s presence.  His heart thudded in his chest.  Michael stuck his tongue out at him playfully and went to whisper something in the stranger’s ear, gazing at Luke intensely the entire time.

Stomach turning from the display, Luke backed up, marching straight back down the hallway, deciding he didn’t even really want to talk to Michael at all, and flung himself back onto his still-empty seat on the living room sofa like a kid throwing a tantrum.  He was distraught and confused and wanted to go back home and not be toyed with, but Michael was his ride, so he just stared into his drink for a while with a scowl on his face.

”Are you sad?” someone asked, breaking through his thoughts.

Luke raised his head, surprised, and found that a girl had joined him on the sofa.  She was blonde, and had caring blue eyes.  Luke looked around, unsure if he was actually being addressed.

”Huh?” he asked.

”You’ve been sitting alone all night, and I thought you seemed sad,” she said, shrugging, “Are you?”

”I guess I am,” he replied, taking a sip from his drink.

”Aww, why?” she asked, her hand reaching out to caress his forearm comfortingly.

Luke looked down at the hand on his arm suspiciously.  He decided to humor her anyway.

“I think— I think the person I— _like_ —“ his voice cracked embarrassingly on that word.  He tried to put it into as simple of terms as possible. The whole thing. “Is playing games with me.”

”Oh, you don’t deserve that,” she said sympathetically, “You’re too cute to get jerked around.”

‘ _Aw, jeez_ ,’ Luke thought, as the girl pulled her legs up onto the couch, walking her fingers up and down Luke’s bicep.  He swallowed nervously.

She was pretty, he guessed; he thought she was wearing a lot of makeup but she didn’t ask his opinion so he didn’t give it to her.  She introduced herself as a friend of Calum’s, and though Luke’s heart was racing, he decided there was no inherent pressure in just having a conversation with her.  Not like he had anything else on his plate.

They went to the same school and the girl was funny and laughed at Luke’s stupid jokes and they’d enjoyed some of the same movies, and it was a decent conversation— that is, until she locked eyes with him, tugging on the collar of his flannel, and asked if he wanted to go somewhere more quiet.

Luke eyed her curiously, wondering for a moment what was wrong with the living room, since it wasn’t like anyone had tried to interrupt them so far..?  

“Like, a bedroom...” she teased at his silence, rolling her eyes, “Don’t make me spell it out, that’s embarrassing.”

Luke balked at her.  He was supposed to say yes, right?  That’s what anyone else would do— jump at the offer?  If he was being honest, he didn’t really know _what_ happened in these scenarios— girls either didn’t pay attention to him, or Michael acted as his buffer— but Michael wasn’t there to stop him.  Fuck Michael; how could he just abandon a clueless child like this?!

“ _Me_?” he blurted out in disbelief.  She laughed, smacking his knee lightheartedly.

”Yes, you!”

“Oh, I, um—“ he wracked his brain for a response, and the only logical option he could come up with was going with her because that’s what he was supposed to like, “Uh, o-okay, yeah.”

She laughed again dragging him by the hand to Ashton’s bedroom, shutting the door behind her. He sat awkwardly on the mattress, gulping audibly when she climbed into his lap.  The girl grabbed his face and kissed him, which was, _y’know, uh, just fine_ , Luke guessed, kissing was nice.  People didn’t really have _sex_ in other peoples’ houses though, right?

The girl pulled back eventually and shrugged off her cardigan and started to unbutton her blouse, and Luke gaped at her silently until his mind finally caught up with him and he was able to speak. A little.

”Wait, I—“ he stuttered quietly, “I don’t— I never talk to girls, I’ve never— I haven’t, uh—“

She froze, looking up at him in shock for a moment but quickly recovered her composure.  She tossed the shirt onto the floor, leaving her in only a bra and skirt.  She smiled at him.

”That’s okay, I can show you,” she giggled, her hand flat on Luke’s chest.

”Um, o-okay..”

Luke gawked at her in utter terror, eyes wide open as she kissed him again.  He never thought that having his virginity taken by a hot girl at a party would become one of his biggest fears, but here it was, right in front of him.  She unbuttoned his jeans, and Luke was about to freak out because he was supposed to want this, so why the fuck _didn’t_ he, but then the bedroom door swung open.

Michael stood there, a knowing expression on his face, and Luke stared at him like a deer in headlights.  He suddenly knew why he didn’t want it.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Michael exclaimed, pretending he’d had no idea the room was occupied, “Ah, Luke, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I gotta talk to you.”

Luke’s entire body slumped in relief and he gently pried the girl off his lap, who was glaring at Michael for the intrusion.

”So sorry, so so sorry, our dog is sick,” Michael lied to the girl, taking Luke by the elbow to lead him out of the room.

Michael pulled Luke along, across the apartment, and Luke assumed they were going to walk right out of the party when they started nearing the back door.

”Wait, my shoes—“ Luke said, but was cut off when Michael shoved him into the walk-in pantry and shut the door behind them, “Michael—?”

A few bits of light escaped through the edges of the doorway, but the pantry was too dark to see much else besides Michael’s dead eyes, the vomity green color somehow illuminated.  Luke stepped backwards, hitting the shelves behind him.  He jumped at the sound of Kraft macaroni and cheese boxes falling to the floor, whipping around to steady the wooden shelf before it slid out of place.  He turned back around, hoping Michael wouldn’t look quite as creepy, but instead found the older boy staring at him like he was a piece of meat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading/commenting/kudosing/etc!
> 
> also, for anyone who may care about my other in-progress fics (sending postcards & la devotee): honestly the next chapters for both those fics have been finished for months, but i think ive just really overthought them and i feel like i keep writing and rewriting them over and over again because i dont like how angsty they are? but people love angst so i dont know why i feel like they’re weird? i think its because they both came from a Personal Angst so reading them from my point of view is like reading embarrassing diary entries lmao. anyway i guess im just looking for validation that people enjoy angst. so just uhhhh tell me you enjoy angst so i can finally move past those chapters and get things moving again.


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